Best First Contact Ever
by gammara
Summary: Archer thinks he's had the most successful mission ever ... but has he really!
1. Default Chapter

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Stories: Neat (G - PG13) | With a Twist (R)   
Episodes: Reviews | Character Bios   


Best First Contact Ever - Chapter One 

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine 

This mission was atypical; it wasn't normal for the first contact mission to have gone so well. Captain Archer and T'Pol met the Benovulans just eight hours ago. During that time, he was impressed with their hospitality and eagerness to chat it up. The proceedings were going well. Better yet, Archer felt like he'd met allies – people he liked and could turn to. They were just as advanced as the humans, far behind the Vulcans and had the same optimistic spirit than humans had. They had many of the same values. Indeed, the Benovulans seemed to appreciate art and music and had treated Archer and T'Pol to a few museum tours. And now, they were throwing a party in honor of their new friends – the Earthlings and the Vulcans.

These people had a lot to offer. Maybe one in particular, a councilwoman named Larana. She'd been showing them around the city almost all day and had been talking with Archer in particular. 

'Yes, this was the best first contact ever,' thought Archer looking over the spread laid before him. He picked up something and gnawed on it.

Larana walked over to him. "I see you found the tlanicks, Captain."

"Tlanicks?" he asked smiling at her.

"Yes, it's a sweet snack. Very tasty aren't they?"

"Mmmhmmm. Tastes like a cookie," he said. He saw her confusion and continued, "A dessert from my planet. And, since we're at a party, maybe you could call me Jon."

She grinned. "That's lovely. I suppose this is a nickname?"

He nodded. "Yes. Earthlings have first and last names. In my country a person's first name is a given name and our last name is from our father.

"Jon Archer? What does Jon mean?"

He laughed, "Uhm, it's short for Jonathan." He decided not to mention the other meanings for Jon.

"I notice your first officer does not call you by your first name," said Larana.

"It might be inappropriate, I'm her commanding officer. Besides, my first name or nickname is familiar," he said. "T'Pol and I don't have that kind of relationship."

"You call her T'Pol rather than sub-commander," said Larana.

"Well, I think of her as a friend."

She walked toward him until they were only a foot apart. "Oh? Only a friend? I thought maybe there was something more between you."

"No. You know, your eyes are the color of your sunsets. Very beautiful."

"Are you trying to charm me?" she asked.

"Why … isn't it working?" he whispered.

She looked at his mouth and wondered how his species showed affection. She laughed, "It's definitely working."

He thought she was stunning. She had dark brown hair, violet eyes and sparkling white teeth. She looked mostly human, except for the ridges that spanned from her hairline and down her neck. But, her hair seemed to cover most of it up. He was completely entranced by her.

She twirled her hair in her fingers as he repeated to himself as if in a dream, 'Best first contact mission ever.'

"Jon, there is a drink my people have … somewhat of a tradition in circumstances such as these. I was hoping you'd have some?"

"I'd love some." He wasn't surprised the people had a drink for first contact. The Benovulans were sentimental people. 

"I'll be right back."

Jon looked her over as she slinked away. Her gown seemed to accentuate every curve. It had a certain luminescence to it, shimmering underneath the moons' light in blue and green. He mused about how she's been touching him all day. She leaned on his arm as she walked through the art museum with him. He thought she'd been flirting with him, but wasn't sure if perhaps this was a custom or she was interested in him. It seemed pretty obvious now that she was interested in him. At least, he hoped so. He nibbled on the last of his cookie as he saw her approaching with two glasses.

She handed him one and touched his face. "Drink this quickly."

He smiled into her hand. "Are you coming onto to me?"

"Why … isn't it working?" 

He chuckled, "It's working." He touched the drink to his lips and titled his head back. He closed his eyes at the bitter flavor, wincing.

"Since this might go to your head, it's best if you concentrate on me. You may feel lightheaded, but don't worry," she said.

"Captain," said T'Pol behind him. "May I have a word with you?"

He turned around to look at her, "Yes?"

"Jon, stay and talk with me," suggested Larana.

Captain Archer followed his first officer away from the table. Larana's hand reached out but seemed to grasp thin air.

T'Pol lowered her voice, "Captain, it may seem … inappropriate to concentrate on Councilwoman Larana."

Archer felt a little dizzy. He stumbled slightly as T'Pol steadied him quickly and let her hands fall to her side. "Are you all right?"

He looked into her eyes and said hoarsely, "Yes, I … I feel fine."

Larana walked over and placed her hand on his back, "Jon … are you okay?" She seemed annoyed at the Vulcan's presence.

Archer nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks."

T'Pol brought out her scanner and waved it over Archer. "Captain, I suggest we go immediately back to Enterprise."

Archer looked like he was going to object and then acquiesced. "Okay."

Larana was shocked; "You're leaving?"

"Yes," he said. "I appreciate your hospitality. Sorry I have to rush off like this Councilwoman. Perhaps when this Xindi business is finished, we can return someday."

She nodded. "I hope so as well." She glared at T'Pol. "Jon, may I have a moment alone with you?" She touched his arm.

"Captain?" asked T'Pol walking toward the shuttle.

Archer frowned, "I should be leaving, Councilwoman."

With that, Archer said goodbye to the other councilmen and women and thanked them. As they walked toward the shuttle door, Jon smiled at the Vulcan and said, "After you."

T'Pol nodded curtly and went into the shuttle first. T'Pol sat at the helm. "Since you are not feeling well, I suggest I pilot the shuttle."

He smiled, "Okay."

She turned and began waving her fingers over the console. He sat down and looked at the console in front of him. "Enterprise is at bearing 23, 33 mark 7."

She punched the information into the computer and began heading out.

"Did you enjoy the planet?" he asked to the back of her head.

"Enjoy? I thought the planet was aesthetically pleasing and the people congenial. Their museums were … fascinating."

He chuckled, "I'm glad you liked it." He turned to the comm. "Archer to Enterprise."

"Hey, Cap'n. Everything go well?" asked Trip.

"Sure did. We should be home in about fifteen minutes."

"We got your signal on scanners. We'll leave the lights on for ya," said Trip. "Tucker out."

Archer looked at the back of T'Pol's head. "So, which museum did you like most?"

T'Pol finished placing the controls on autopilot and turned around. She noticed Archer was grinning at her. She raised her eyebrow. "I thought the science museum was intriguing."

"Thought you might say that one. What did you like most about it? The astronomy exhibit?"

"It was all of equal interest. Nothing stood out in my mind."

He nodded. "I enjoyed the art museum. It's amazing how far away the planet is, but how similar it is to Earth. There was one artist – Flaren that reminded me of Chagall. Have you run across a planet that has reminded you of Vulcan?"

"Of course. There are many planets that are hot and have deserts, including Earth."

"I wish I could take you to the Mojave, T'Pol. I think you might like that one."

She turned around and looked back at the controls. "Perhaps. How are you feeling, Captain? You seem unusually … talkative."

"Really, I feel fine. But, I appreciate your concern. And as for unusually talkative, I'm just … a … seeing what you prefer. You know, making small talk."

"I see," she said.

As they approached Enterprise, T'Pol began the docking procedures and Archer remained quiet. They walked off the launch pad and into the small chamber before Decon as Dr. Phlox scanned them from the comfort of a small booth adjacent to the decontamination room. His voice came over the comm. 

"Captain, Sub-commander … it seems something traveled along with you from the surface. Please head into Decon and begin using the gel. I need to check a few readings. I'll be back shortly."

As the doctor walked away from the window, T'Pol said, "Captain, you should also have the doctor give you an examination."

He smiled, "Worried about me?"

She did not respond.

"Well, okay. I'll talk to Dr. Phlox after we've finished."

She raised her eyebrow. 

Archer'd been feeling like his stomach itched all the way back home. The planet had a way of agreeing with T'Pol. She looked radiant. As he entered Decon he began disrobing. He looked behind him to see her stripped down to her Starfleet-issued briefs. 

He sucked in his breath, glancing over her semi-nude body. Sweat formed on his brow as he noticed his body began reacting. With embarrassment, he turned away and began to slap the gel on his legs and arms. He tried to clear his mind of pleasant thoughts.

"Captain, would you mind?" asked T'Pol.

He turned around as she lifted up her shirt showing more of her back. "I cannot reach that area," she replied.

He dipped his hand into the gel. "Uhm, sure," he said working his fingers on her back. She smelled like nutmeg. 

She put her shirt down. "Thank you. Turn around so I may assist you."

He turned quickly, before she could notice his body was reacting even more. As he felt her hands knead his flesh, he felt his body completely cave in. He was turned on; he wanted her to keep touching him. Her breath was on his neck. 

"Captain, I apologize for interrupting you and the councilwoman during the social engagement. I did not want the council to … misunderstand your relationship with her. It would have been inappropriate for you to engage in anything further with her."

Her hands danced over his lower back.

"Inappropriate?" he barely eked out, forcing himself to walk toward the window.

"Yes, councilmen and women are leaders, Captain. According to their culture, the attention you were paying her seemed to indicate you were courting her." She paused. "Councilwomen are not courted, unless you wished to become one of her mates." 

"Mates?" he asked, wetting his lips.

"Yes," she explained. "I was talking with Councilmen Dralan. He indicated each of them had a large … entourage. Anyone in power has many mates."

He wiped his brow as Phlox came back to the window, surprised Archer was looking out. "You're clear to leave."

Archer lamely said, "Doc, I'd like to stay and talk to you for a moment."

"Of course, Captain," replied Phlox.

Archer turned his head and noticed T'Pol filed out. The door slid shut, leaving Decon empty except for him. He breathed a deep sigh. 

"How can I help you?" asked Phlox watching Archer.

"Listen, I've been feeling a little …."  

"I have noticed an increase in heart rate. In addition, I've noticed a small increase in testosterone and blood supply to your…."

Archer cut him off, "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Phlox jerked his head. "Seems perfectly natural. I notice it occasionally happens to human males who go through Decon. In fact, Lt. Reed …."

Archer whispered, "It doesn't happen to me."

"Captain, when you and I discussed your dream with the sub-commander … you indicated it was a fantasy in Decon, was it not?"

Archer sighed, "Yes." He looked down at his feet.

"Ah, you see? Perhaps your subconscious was reminded of this situation."

Archer nodded. "Maybe."

Phlox stared up at the monitor. "Seems that little problem seems to have rectified itself."

Jon scowled at the doctor and walked into the next room. T'Pol looked like she was having difficulty zipping up the back of her outfit. Her hand barely touched the zipper as she tried in vain to urge it up. 

"Here," he said. He put his hand on her waist and the other on the zipper. He lifted the metal slowly noticing his hand on her hip. He felt his body beginning to give in again and walked quickly to his locker and pulled out a uniform. He stepped in, bringing it to his hips with a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," she said.

He looked back and gave a half-grin. "You know, purple looks very nice on you."

She raised her eyebrow. 

He put his shirt on and brought the uniform up over his arms. His eyes danced over her figure before he could stop them. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to snap himself out of it.

"Captain, I could complete the report on the Benovulans and catalogue them."

"No, you don't need to stay up late; I can."

"I would be 'up' anyway. Commander Tucker is coming to my quarters at 2000."

"Neuropressure?" said Archer, realizing his lip had curled up. "I would've thought Trip's sleeping problem would've vanished by now."

"No. He still requires treatment."

Archer knew how much she liked to show off her ears and tucked some hair behind her left one. He casually continued, "I don't think you should continue." He blinked quickly at her, seemingly lost in her ears.

T'Pol raised both eyebrows and stepped away. "Captain, I strongly suggest you see Dr. Phlox. You do not seem like yourself." 

"If that's what you want, I'll go see him."

"I will accompany you."

He walked to the door and waited for her to walk through. He put his hand on the small of her back escorting her through the portal. She stiffened at his touch, but said nothing.

They walked down the hall silently, although she could tell Archer seemed nearly transfixed on her – spellbound. He would walk a few paces and then turn to look at her. 

As they reached Sickbay, Dr. Phlox looked at the pair. "Ahhh, Captain Archer and Sub-commander T'Pol. May I help you?"

Archer seemed to let his attention wander back to T'Pol and smiled dopily at her. The sub-commander turned to Archer and stifled a sigh, "The captain has been acting strangely since his visit on the planet. He had an incident that perhaps has some bearing on his current behavior."

Dr. Phlox squinted his eyes at the human. "Captain, why don't you have a seat over here." The doctor pointed at a bed near them.

He nodded and hopped onto the bed. Dr. Phlox retrieved some instruments. "What's his behavior been like?"

Archer smiled, "I feel fine really. This was T'Pol's idea."

She furrowed her brows and crossed her arms. "He has been acting inappropriately."

"Inappropriate in what way?" asked Phlox.

"He appears to be … touching me more than usual."

Jon said, "I don't think I have been."

T'Pol seemed hesitant. "He has seemed somewhat … affectionate."

Phlox grinned widely, "Affectionate toward just you?"

"No, he also seemed rather … interested in one of the Benovulans."

"I wasn't interested in her. This is silly; I feel fine," said Archer. 

"What incident happened on the planet?" asked Phlox.

"I stumbled slightly for a moment because I felt dizzy," explained the captain.

"Dizzy? Any cause for the lightheadedness?" asked the doctor.

"None that I know of," said Archer. "Maybe the cookie I ate or the drink."

The doctor gave Archer a once-over -- looking in his ears, nose and throat. "Lie down."

Archer did so. The screen lit up like a Christmas tree beeping and buzzing. Phlox tapped his chin in thought. "That's odd."

"What's odd?" asked Archer.

Phlox looked over at T'Pol and said, "Would you mind leaving us alone?"

T'Pol inclined her head politely. "Of course." And with that, she began to walk out.

"See ya later," said Archer, rising up slightly to watch her walk out the door.

The monitor changed dramatically. Phlox put his hands on his hips. "What just happened?" 

Archer looked at him. "I don't understand." He did feel slightly depressed.

"Your readings have almost returned to normal."

"I feel pretty normal. I don't know what all the fuss is about," said Jon as a frown formed on his lips. 

"Captain, a moment ago, it looked like your testosterone, dopamine and adrenaline levels were all very high for a human. Your blood supply increased slightly, as had your heart rate." 

"What would that indicate?"

Phlox grinned widely again, "That your body was possibly preparing for exercise or maybe to mate. The dopamine is an interesting deviation. I'll do some research. You said you had a cookie and drink before the onset of dizziness?"

"Yes -- tlanicks and a drink. I'm not sure of the name of the drink. Councilwoman Larana indicated it was for first contact."

Phlox had a theory; he walked over to the comm to test it out. "Dr. Phlox to Sub-commander T'Pol."

"Sub-commander T'Pol here." He noticed Jon's readings kicked up a notch. 

He grinned. "I'd like to see you for a moment in Sickbay."

"On my way," she replied.

As soon as T'Pol entered, Archer's readings shot up again. His heart rate increased, his dopamine levels were outrageously high … everything was where it was a few minutes ago, if not higher.

"Very interesting," said Phlox.

T'Pol asked, "You wanted to see me?"

"Actually, I wanted you to perform an experiment, which you did."

She raised her eyebrow. "Oh?"

He walked over to the comm again. "Crewmen Cutler to Sickbay."

The Vulcan said, "I do not understand your experiment."

Ensign Cutler walked into Sickbay. "Hey, Phlox. You wanted to see me?"

He grinned, "Yes." He noticed Archer's readings were the same and his gaze seemed to be stuck on T'Pol. 

"Doctor, I suggest you explain …." began T'Pol.

Phlox cut her off. "Sub-commander, could you wait outside for a moment … until I call you back in. I'll explain everything in just a few more minutes."

She walked out, and Archer's bio-signs fell back to normal, or below normal. 

"Flazalnitz!" he said (as if it were Eureka). 

He popped his head out of Sickbay and said to the first officer, "I believe I have discovered the problem."

She inclined her head and walked back into to Sickbay. 

"Doc, what's going on?" asked Archer.

Phlox smiled, "Ensign Cutler, thank you for your time. I'll see you at dinner." She nodded and left.

"Doctor?" asked T'Pol.

"Sub-commander, I think you should investigate the tlanicks and beverage Archer was given. I think someone gave him an aphrodisiac. And, I believe you are now the recipient of these affections, Sub-commander."

"What?" asked Archer sitting up.

"Can an aphrodisiac be so … specific?" she asked.

"I would not have thought so, and I'd like to run some additional tests, but seeing you or hearing your voice forces his body to respond with a high heart rate, increased body temperature and other things associated with possibly love or mating. The dopamine is tricky. His body is actually rewarding his … amorous feelings for you." He looked at Archer. "Does any of this seem plausible? Have you had … feelings for T'Pol since your return?"

Archer looked shocked. "I don't know." He thought about her affect on him in Decon. "I guess." He stared into her green eyes and felt himself turn to putty, finding it impossible to look away. "Yes."

T'Pol asked, "Is this reversible?"

Phlox shrugged, "I don't know. I would assume since it's ingested it is, but I'll need more time to find out. Captain, I'll need to take a few blood samples and a DNA sample."

Archer nodded in agreement as T'Pol spoke, "I will begin investigating the tlanicks and drink." 

Phlox walked away to gather more equipment. T'Pol looked at Archer trying to determine what he was thinking. "I will see you on the bridge, Captain."

He tried not to look and just nodded his head as she filed out. As soon as she left, he felt a little depressed again, possibly more depressed than last time she left.

Archer asked, "Is there something you can do to counteract this?"

Phlox walked over. "No. Not yet. I know this is difficult for you."

He shrugged.

The doctor took something that looked like a hypospray and began collecting blood from Archer's left arm. "I would imagine you are currently feeling sad?"

"How'd you know?"

"Your dopamine levels. When your body stops producing as much, it probably feels like you're … depressed."

Archer nodded. "I also feel somewhat euphoric when she's around."

"Yes, the human body is quite wonderful really. Your dopamine would be considered a drug on Denobulan, but it seems to help you deal with pain more easily and rewards you for eating, sex and a multitude of other things that are vital to your species' survival," said the physician collecting the last of the blood samples. He walked over and put them away.

"In fact, the Fangors of Lorad have been known to strip the lymphatic system searching for something that resembles your dopamine." His smile turned creepy, "I'm sure you'd fetch a very high price in the markets on Lorad right now."

Archer frowned, "Uhm, any advice for me?"

Phlox brought over a small instrument, smaller than a hypospray. "No, continue on as normal. Be aware of your feelings of love and lust. It may be difficult for you to avoid the sub-commander, but it would be for the best."

Archer knew the drill. He held out his hand and allowed a skin sample to be taken to check his DNA.

Phlox suggested, "Maybe you should go to your quarters and wait this out."

"No, I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. I'll be in the communications room; I won't bother T'Pol there." Just saying her name gave him a little jolt. He sighed.

Phlox nodded. "I'll let you know if I find anything."

Archer put his sleeve down and hopped off the table, striding out the door. 

[top]

Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.   
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.   
Reviews provided by Monica. 


	2. Best First Contact Ever 2

Site and resources: the 602 Club Home | About the 602club.com | Contact Me | Directions to Other Bars (Links)   
Stories: Neat (G - PG13) | With a Twist (R)   
Episodes: Reviews | Character Bios   


Best First Contact Ever - Chapter Two 

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine 

Archer walked around the command center. He looked at the star charts, wondering if the information the Benovulans had provided would be helpful. He recalled the events that happened earlier that day.

_Archer addressed the Benovulan council, standing in a rotunda. He was in the middle of a circular group of desks where twelve council members were seated. T'Pol was also standing with her hands clasped behind her back._

_Archer argued, "Council, if the Xindi can build a weapon to destroy Earth, no doubt they could use this weapon against any planet in the Expanse. You yourselves have stated you have a tenuous peace with these people."_

_Larana stood, "How do we know we can trust you, Captain?"_

_He smiled at her. "Your people and mine have a lot in common. I know because of the hospitality you've shown me. By visiting your museums and meeting your people, I know Benovulans are educated and interested in peace. You are creative and sentimental. You value art, science, literature, history…. My people value these things as well."_

_Dralan shook his head. "It would be against policy to align ourselves with anyone, much less people we have just met."_

T'Pol spoke up, "My people, the Vulcans, have chosen to ally themselves with Earth. Captain Archer speaks truthfully about Earthlings and their values. Besides, he is not asking you to enter the war. He is merely asking you to provide information."

_Larana said, "We would need something in return."_

_"Of course," agreed Archer._

_"Information about your arts, literature, science …. Sharing information is extremely important to our people," she explained. "You said so yourself – we are educated people."_

_He looked back at T'Pol. "Seems agreeable."_

_Larana nodded, "Then, it is settled."_

_Dralan stood, "Larana, we have not taken a vote on this matter."_

_"I am the president of this council. I do not request a vote," she explained._

_The councilman sat back in his chair and scoffed._

_T'Pol raised her eyebrow at the events. She opened her communicator. "T'Pol to Enterprise."_

_"Tucker here."_

_"Captain Archer would like you to download the arts, literature, science and other cultural information from the Earth database," said T'Pol. "Have you located their system?"_

_"Yes, ma'am. I'll begin transferring the data right away," said Hoshi. "We should have it completely delivered within the hour."_

_Larana looked pleased. "For this, we will have a banquet in your honor."_

Archer thought of T'Pol's logical plea on Earth's behalf, how her reasoning won them over. In fact, Larana herself delivered the data about the cloaked sphere where she indicated they had a munitions factory. 

T'Pol. When she was in the science museum on the planet Benovula, she seemed to enjoy herself. Her eyes had a way of expressing such enthusiasm and curiosity even though she feigned no interest and hid her emotions. He said her name aloud; as the tip of his tongue touched his teeth. 

He shook his head trying to focus. 'I just need to concentrate at the tasks at hand.' 

The information Larana provided looked accurate. Although confirming this should've made Archer happy, he felt genuinely sad. 

With some apathy he walked up to the comm. "Archer to the Bridge."

"T'Pol here. Go ahead, Captain."

"It's nice to hear your voice."

"Captain?"

"I reviewed the data the Benovulans supplied. It seems genuine. I've spotted anomalies in the direct path where they indicated the cloaked sphere would be. Lay in a course – 22, 89, 1 mark 3. Warp factor 3."

"Course laid in, sir," said Mayweather. "We should reach this area in four days."

"Long-range scanners are not detecting anything," said T'Pol.

"It's there."

Archer heard over the comm, "Ensign Sato, transfer this to the Ready Room over a secure line. I would like to speak with Captain Archer in private."

After a moment of silence, he heard again, "Captain, after being drugged by them, you trust the information they have given you?" asked T'Pol.

"You don't think I should?" Archer asked. 

"No, I do not. I also think … due to your condition … I should review the information," said T'Pol.

"My condition? I'm not an invalid, T'Pol. But, if you think it's best, you can check it out. I'm in the command center."

"Very well, I will be there momentarily," said T'Pol.

Archer turned away from the comm. Suddenly, Archer wondered about his appearance. He looked into a screen that had been turned off, checking his reflection. He tried to straighten his hair. He breathed into his hand and found his breath was acceptable. He felt nervously excited at the chance of seeing her again and began to pace around the room.

She walked through the door and he wheeled around, grinning from ear-to-ear. He rushed her at the door. "Hi!"

She raised her eyebrow. "Hello."

He smiled blankly at her. 

"I'm here to discuss the data," she reminded him.

"Sure," he said as he led her to a console. He offered her a seat and she sat down. He leaned in closely, looking at her over her shoulder at the monitor. "If you look there," pointing out one spot on the screen, "it appears this is the sphere they were telling us about."

She noticed he was very close, but she continued to stare at the screen. "It does indeed appear to be the one they mentioned."

"I think they called it Lanlth. Mmmm," he said softly. "What perfume are you wearing?"

"I do not wear any," she explained. "Although the data appears authentic, I am still unsure what may lie in wait for us there."

"Maybe it's your shampoo then. You smell very nice, whatever it is."

She looked up at him. "The sphere," she said, suggesting they focus their attention.

"Right. Sorry."

"I would like to take some long-range scans before we continue."

"Why?" he asked.

"Additional information, perhaps bio-signs or ships in the vicinity."

"Couldn't you do that on the way there?" he asked. "We have four days …."

"More readings will ensure we are choosing the correct course of action. In addition, this will provide time to determine and possibly cure your … illness."

"It would delay our mission." He frowned slightly and then softened his expression, not wanting to offend her. "You know how much I value your opinion, but I'm not sure I agree with you." He looked deeply into her eyes. "Do you have a recommendation?"

"Yes. Travel on impulse to our current heading until we have confirmed the data, determined the peaceful intent of the Benovulans and hopefully found a cure for you."

Her green eyes shimmered in the half-light of the room. He grinned, "All right. How can I argue with you?" He paused. "Had dinner yet?"

"No. I take it you would like me to order the ship to impulse then?" she asked.

"That's fine," he said. "Hungry?"

She furrowed her brow and walked over to the comm. "T'Pol to Mayweather."

"Mayweather here, ma'am."

"Ensign, I would like you to alter our speed to impulse."

Brief pause. "Yes, ma'am."

"T'Pol out."

Archer stood behind her the entire time, gazing at her. "If you're hungry … we could have dinner or something?"

"I am required back on the bridge."

"Right. I'll walk you back."

"I do not require an escort."

He laughed nervously, "I know. I just wanted to walk with you."

"Captain, although I … enjoy … your company, I suggest we limit the amount of time we spend together." 

He smiled, "A rain check then?"

"Another day? Yes, that seems agreeable," she said as she walked out. Archer looked after the door for a few moments with longing. He wanted to see her again soon. He _needed _to see her again soon. He shook his head. He didn't really agree with her decision. Why had he agreed? Oh, well. She was brilliant; she probably knew what was best. 

Archer couldn't think about anything other than when he would see T'Pol next. He'd lost his focus on work and instead thought about her smell lingering in the command center. In fact, he spent almost thirty minutes thinking about their brief conversation wondering what she meant when she said she enjoyed spending time with him. Although that should have elated him, he felt unhappy again.

"Phlox to Captain Archer."

"This is Archer," he said with disinterest.

"Captain, I'd like you to report to Sickbay right away."

"Sure. Fine."

"I'll see you in a few minutes," replied Phlox.

Archer shuffled his feet to Sickbay. He assumed Phlox had found out something, but knew it wasn't good. He wasn't sure why he assumed it wouldn't be good news, he just felt pessimistic. He walked in to find a smiling physician.

"How are you feeling?" asked Phlox.

"A little blue."

"You look rather pink to me – ha." Phlox made a honking sound trying to imitate laughter.

Archer looked nonplussed. "You called me in here?"

"I wanted to engage in a joke before delivering bad news, Captain. I believe you call it an ice breaker."

"Right. Well, might as well just give it to me." 

"Hmmmm. Your mood confirms my diagnosis – your symptoms are getting worse. And your condition may not be temporary. It appears what you were given was a catalyst of some sort."

"Swell," he said sarcastically.

Phlox frowned, "I'll definitely need Sub-commander T'Pol's help with this problem. I would also suggest we contact the Benovulans for their help, assuming they want to give it."

Hearing his first officer's name lifted his spirits slightly; Jon smiled weakly. "She has her hands pretty full at the moment, and the ship and the mission is her first priority. Is there another science officer you can work with?"

"Unfortunately, T'Pol and I are the most acquainted with Xenobiology, Xenophysiology and Xenochemistry. I'd prefer her expertise."

"Well, look, Doc. I'm okay. I can wait it out."

Phlox motioned to the bio-bed. "Sit down, I'd like to take a look at your readings."

"I was only in here about an hour or so ago."

"I realize that," said Phlox. "My studies indicate your illness will worsen quickly. And as I mentioned, it appears it already has. If I take a few more readings I can provide some suggestions on treatment, since you'll have to 'wait it out.'"

Archer acquiesced, hopping up and lying back on the bio-bed.

Phlox looked at the readings and folded his arms with dissatisfaction. "Just as I thought. Captain, if you were to rate your mood on a scale of one, happy, to ten, very depressed, where would it be?"

Archer hemmed and hawed, "I don't know. I said I was blue."

"For example, a funeral might be a 'ten,'" said Phlox, trying to drag the information out of him.

"Whose funeral?"

Phlox turned his mouth down. "Captain?"

"I don't know. An eight I guess."

"Hmmm. Now, I know how you will react, but as your physician I strongly advise this." He paused. "I think you should take anti-depressants until this can be worked out."

Archer sat up quickly. "No way."

"I would like you to think about it. This depression may creep up on you, which could be dangerous. And, you shouldn't feel ashamed of anti-depressants. In fact on Rangor VII, the …."

"No."

"I'm not going to order you. But, I would like you to think about it. Depression is a medical illness, not a deficiency in coping skills or personality." 

"I'll think about it." Archer looked up at the chronometer. It was 2000 hours.

Phlox smiled. "Good. Now, you may not be hungry, but I suggest you get something to eat soon. And, watch your level of sleep. If you feel more tired than usual or less tired than usual, let me know."

Archer nodded and meandered toward the door. For some reason his mind was fixated on finding out whether T'Pol had taken any long-range scans. Rather than use the comm, he wanted to walk to her quarters and talk with her face-to-face. Maybe it would cheer him up. He knew something else was happening at 2000 hours, but couldn't remember what.

*****************************************************************

Trip took off his shirt and said, "You know, I could kinda get used to this."

"Used to this?" asked T'Pol rubbing her hands together, trying to warm them up. 

He lay down on her bed and stretched out on his stomach. "Yeah, you know. I guess I'm starting to enjoy our evening ritual."

She raised her eyebrow and began placing her hands on his back. "Is this helping your sleeping patterns?"

"Oh yeah," he said breathlessly as she obviously hit a pressure point.

"Commander, take a deep breath."

He did and held it for a moment as she had shown him. He let it go as her hand worked down his back.

"So, you have a good time on the planet?" asked Trip.

"We toured the city and received the information the captain had requested. It was not unpleasurable, nor was it pleasurable."

"I wouldn't mind walking around a bit, visiting a city. See anything interesting?" he asked.

She thought about Captain Archer's strange behavior. "There were items of interest, but nothing to discuss."

"I don't know why the cap'n always seems to pick you for these assignments."

She eased off his back for a moment. "Commander, please refrain from talking. Neuropressure is best when conducted in a meditative trance, as we discussed."

The door chimed.

Trip looked up as T'Pol stood. "Continue your deep breathing."

He nodded.

She walked to the door and opened it, somewhat surprised to see Archer. However, her expression was stoic. "Captain?"

He smiled at her. He leaned against the portal and gazed at her figure. She was dressed in her blue pajamas and had the top and bottom two buttons undone, showing off her neckline and small, tan waist. "Uhm, I wanted to see if you were able to take those long-range scans we discussed."

She raised her eyebrow. "I am still recording that data. Currently, I am giving Commander Tucker his neuropressure treatment."

"In that?" he asked with alarm.

"I prefer loose clothing during this procedure. And, I was hoping Commander Tucker could return the favor tonight."

"I thought you told me that this treatment had to be performed on bare skin," he said.

"That is correct."

"Commander Tucker performs neuropressure on you?" asked Archer, his face reddening.

"Sometimes."

"Not tonight," he said. He brushed past her into her room and looked at Trip who was sitting up on her bed, shirtless and shoeless. ****

"Hey, Cap'n. There something wrong?"

Archer noticed the candlelight and soft music, and felt something akin to rage build up in the pit of his stomach. "Treatment's over."

Tucker looked completely confused. T'Pol walked over. "Captain, I would suggest …."

He continued to keep his glare on his engineer. "I said treatment's over."

Trip picked up his shirt and began to put it on. T'Pol tried again, "Captain, you're not acting logically. I would suggest you are being affected by …."

"That's an order, Commander. Get back to your quarters," growled Archer. He folded his arms and continued to stare threateningly at Trip, watching him put his shoes on. 

Trip explained, "Cap'n, I thought you knew she was helpin' me sleep."

Archer remained silent, fighting the urge to take a swing at his long-time friend.

Commander Tucker shook his head and started for the door. T'Pol said quietly as he neared the door, "I will contact you later."

Trip nodded as he walked out.

As the door slid shut, Archer turned around, puzzled, "What were you thinking?" 

"I might ask you the same question," she said with almost an angry tone in her voice.

He stammered seeking out the right words, but felt completely lost for the ones that accurately described how he felt. He didn't want to yell at her; he was sure it wasn't her fault, but he felt … betrayed, nervous, upset and yet happy to see her.

"You barged into my quarters as if in a jealous rage and ordered Commander Tucker to leave."

"You attracted to Trip?"

She furrowed her brows more. "You are ignoring your culpability. Besides, this conversation is hardly appropriate. Whether I am attracted to him or not is none of your concern. It is obvious you are being affected by the ailment Dr. Phlox spoke to us about. I would suggest …."

"I'll take that as a 'yes.' Just let me know when you find out about the long-range scans." He tightened his lips, trying to keep a handle on his emotions and began to head for the door.

T'Pol felt exasperated, but didn't show it. "Captain?" she said softly.

He continued marching toward the door.

She managed to catch his arm before the door opened. "I think Commander Tucker is attractive, but I am not … interested in him in that manner."

Something about the way she said that made him feel so much better. He decided to press his luck. "Really?"

She leveled her gaze at him. "I am not interested in anyone on this ship in that manner, no matter how attractive I think he is."

"Oh," he said, searching his feelings.

"Did Dr. Phlox give you an update on your condition?"

"Uh, yeah. He'll need to look into it further. He thinks I consumed a catalyst of some sort."

T'Pol raised her eyebrows. "How are you feeling?"

"I've felt worse," he said. 

"Captain, do you understand why I am not interested in anyone aboard this ship?"

"No, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me."

She raised both eyebrows and continued, "It would be inappropriate for me to act on an attraction. It would be inappropriate toward a commanding officer, or an officer under my command."

He noticed he was having a hard time looking away from her bare skin. He began to button her top. "I'm sure if I wasn't under the influence of this … drug, I'd agree with you." He felt his body giving in a little as he murmured, "Actually, I'm not sure."

She stepped away from his touch and said evenly. "I will contact you when the long-range scans are complete."

"Right. The scans." He lingered, gazing into her eyes.

"Perhaps it is best if we discontinue working together for the time being. I believe I should work from my quarters until your condition is … resolved."

He frowned, "I'm sorry. Does my presence bother you that much, T'Pol?"

"It appears my presence 'bothers' _you _that much," she whispered. "I notice you have difficulty concentrating when I am in the room with you. I dare not think about what would happen on the bridge."

"That's just it, I'd have this problem whether you're in the room or not."

"Do you feel you can still command this vessel?"

He thought about it for a moment. "I think so. Yes."

"Captain, I also wish to avoid any embarrassing situations."

He smirked, "Like the one that just happened with Trip."

"Yes, for one."

He sighed, "I know you're right. I'm sorry."

"I understand your reactions are beyond your control." She raised her eyebrow. 

"I hope I haven't offended you."

"No. Not yet."

"I guess I should go," he said walking toward the door. "Probably should apologize to Trip."

"I believe your friends would understand your accidental transgressions, Captain." She paused. "I would."

"You're a good friend," he smiled, as he walked out the door.

[top]

Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.   
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.   
Reviews provided by Monica. 


	3. Best First Contact Ever 3

Site and resources: the 602 Club Home | About the 602club.com | Contact Me | Directions to Other Bars (Links)   
Stories: Neat (G - PG13) | With a Twist (R)   
Episodes: Reviews | Character Bios   


Best First Contact Ever - Chapter Three 

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine 

Archer's Quarters 

Day after Archer kicked Trip from T'Pol's room after a nightly neuropressure treatment.

Archer awoke and bleakly lifted his heavy lids. He registered the world a little differently – greyer. Darker. He scratched his head and sat up in bed with disinterest. He looked at the chronometer and realized he'd slept until noon. Good thing it was his day off. Day off? Who cared.

He frowned and slipped out of bed wearily. He noticed Porthos' food bowl was near empty and shuffled over to feed his dog. The beagle licked his hand gratefully. Archer's hand barely touched his dog's head, as he walked toward the comm. He said weakly, "Archer to Sickbay."

A voice rang out in Archer's cabin, "Dr. Phlox here. What can I do for you, Captain?"

Jon sighed, "I think I need another treatment …."

"Another? Captain, I just gave you one last night. It should last the entire week."

"Sorry. It's just ….I'm sure I'll be fine," Archer moaned. He let his thumb slip away from the comm and sank back into bed, bringing the covers over his head. 

A buzz sounded, forcing him to drag himself over to the door and open it.

"Captain, I was concerned …." Phlox stopped short, assessing the very unkempt man and messy room. The captain wasn't known for being the tidiest man on the ship – Mr. Reed was. But, under normal conditions he wasn't too far off. Today? He was nearing Commander Tucker's untidiness.

An unshaven man wearing wrinkled sweats and a large frown, said, "Hey, Doc."

"Captain, may I come in?"

Archer shrugged and moved out of the way.

"I provided some medication to you yesterday. And you still feel ….?" asked Phlox, trying to be sensitive.

"Depressed? Yes," said Archer. "Just give me the hypo and leave me alone."

Phlox sighed, "Captain, the dosage I gave you yesterday should've lasted the entire week. Did you try the exercises I suggested?" 

"You mean 'visualizing myself in a happy place?'"

Phlox's eyes twinkled, "Yes."

"Didn't work. I watched water polo and tried nearly everything …." Archer walked over to his desk, sat down and pushed his face up on his knuckles. "Well, what do you want me to do?" 

Phlox ran a scan over Archer's form as a frown took over. "I'm surprised at the low levels of endorphins your body is producing. I'd like to compare this to the scans I took yesterday. Have you tried exercising?"

"Yeah," he bemoaned. "Hardly seems worth it." 

"Captain … I don't want to give you another anti-depressant right now."

Archer put his hand through his hair and sighed. "I don't care. Give it to me, don't give it to me. Not that it matters much. I feel miserable. I'm sure no matter what happens I'll feel miserable."

"What about that other suggestion I had? You know … the one where you perform that technique I read about in my scientific journals. Fascinating really this .. what do you call it … mast…."

Archer interrupted as quickly as possible. "Yes, I tried that."

Phlox crossed his arms, "And? You were able to …?"

Archer interrupted, uncomfortably, "Yes."

"Successfully?"

Archer's eyes darkened, "Yes."

"Are you sure?"

Archer rolled his eyes and said with a tinge of anger, "Yes."

"Well, that reduces the options somewhat." Phlox folded his arms across his chest. "There is a couple more that come to mind …."

"Sub-commander T'Pol to Captain Archer," screeched the comm. 

Archer practically ran over to the silver box, jumping over Porthos. He leaned into it, trying to sound as sexy as possible. "This is Archer."

"Captain, is there something wrong with your voice?"

"No."

"I realize our agreement, but I was unable to contact the Benovulans and Dr. Phlox was not in Sickbay."

Archer thought about how they'd agreed not to communicate with each other until his symptoms improved and sighed.

"I'm right here Sub-commander," chimed in the doctor, merrily.

"May I meet you in Sickbay, Doctor?" she suggested.

Archer spoke up, "Since he's in my quarters, you could come here."

Phlox raised his eyebrows with interest as silence rang out on the other end. "Do you think that is wise?" she asked in a hushed voice.

Archer stammered for an response when Phlox answered, "Actually, that might be best. I would like to make a suggestion to both of you."

"Very well. I will be there momentarily. T'Pol out."

Phlox turned to the captain who ran into the bathroom and began shaving as quickly as possible. Archer asked excitedly, "Could you find my light blue shirt? No, maybe the white one. And the black trousers?"

Phlox blew out a short breath and waddled over to the closet, retrieving the clothing. "Captain, I know given your … state, it's difficult to truly reflect on the nature of your relationship with Sub-commander T'Pol, your science officer. But, I strongly encourage you to …."

Archer splashed water onto his face and ran a towel over his cheeks. He threw off his shirt and began to put deodorant under his arms, wondering if T'Pol would smell whether he'd taken a shower that day. He realized Phlox was saying something rather than quickly bringing him his clothes and snapped his fingers, "Hurry up! She'll be here any second."

The corners of Phlox's face shot down as he walked to the bathroom. Archer grabbed the apparel out of the Denobulan's hand and quickly changed into his clothes. He combed his hair when the door chime rang. He looked around his cabin and knew she'd disapprove of how messy it was. He began to kick dirty clothes into his closet, make his bed and tidy up as quickly as possible. Phlox started to move toward the door when Archer shouted, "Not yet!"

The doctor rolled his eyes and tapped his foot, waiting for the captain to finish his cleaning and grooming. The door chimed again and Archer ran to the door, opening it nonchalantly leaning against the wall.

T'Pol raised her eyebrows, "Did you not hear me ring the door chime?"

He wanted to throw his arms around her. Suddenly he felt joy tickle down his spine and rummage around in his stomach. The Vulcan looked radiant. He leaned toward her, taking in her spicy scent and grinned widely. "God, you look beautiful."

Phlox spoke up, "T'Pol, please come in."

Archer held the door open for her as she suspiciously eyed him. T'Pol turned toward the doctor, ignoring the captain's stare and said, "Councilwoman Larana denies giving anything to the captain. However, I was able to ascertain through some discussion with councilmember Dralan that there is a mating … ritual … that might have caused the captain's reaction. Each participant is asked to take a drink of something." 

Phlox's mouth curled up into his face with delight. "Mating ritual? How interesting!"

T'Pol noticed Archer was very close, studying almost every inch of her. She distractedly turned back to Phlox. "It determines how … attracted each participant is to the other and prepares the body for … mating. I would imagine Councilmember Larana was enamored with the captain."

Phlox continued to beam. "So, why was the captain attracted to you, rather than her?"

"That remains a mystery."

Phlox said with bemusement, "He does seem _awfully _attracted to you."

"I assume it is his human physiology. At any rate," she said changing the subject, "I think it best to go back to the planet and determine the exact problem and the solution."

Archer was too wrapped up in the Vulcan to pay attention to the discussion she and Dr. Phlox were having, but did hear something vague about the planet. "Wait a second. Go back to the planet? Are you sure that's the best course of action?" asked Archer. "Our first priority is … to … the … mission," he said, fondling her lips with his eyes.

"Captain, I am uncertain whether we should continue with the mission. If your symptoms get worse .…"

"Have you confirmed the data about the cloaked sphere that Larana provided?" he asked, leaning closer, visually smelling her hair.

"No, not yet."

"I think we should work on that first. Don't you?" he asked, almost whispering it in her ear. His body was almost flush up against hers.

She backed away slightly. "Not necessarily." 

Archer asked huskily, "Why do you say that?" His nose dipped into her hair. 

She turned her attention toward Dr. Phlox. "Will the captain's symptoms continue to decline?"

Phlox was running a scan of the captain, enjoying their little tête-à-tête too much. He mused about his findings and asked, startled, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

"I asked if Captain Archer," she said, backing away from him slightly. She tried focusing back on Dr. Phlox. "I asked if Captain Archer's symptoms would continue to deteriorate." 

Phlox smiled, "Yes, I think he will continue to get progressively worse. But, I wanted to discuss an idea. And my scans prove it will work effectively." 

"Go ahead," said Archer, not taking his eyes off his first officer.

"I recommend you spend more time together. The captain's symptoms have drastically improved since the short time you've been in the room."

Archer agreed, "Works for me."

"I am uncertain whether this is the best solution," she questioned, raising both eyebrows.

"Seems better than the alternatives. There are other options I suppose. You could provide neuropressure treatment to the captain …," suggested Phlox.

T'Pol guardedly glanced at Archer. "Are there other suggestions? Suggestions that do not include physical contact?"

Phlox shrugged, "Spending time together doesn't require physical contact. But, no, I have no other suggestions. Do you?"

She clasped her hands behind her back and regretfully said, "No. Not at this time."

"How long would he need to stay in my presence?" she asked.

Phlox shrugged, "Until we reach the planet."

"Do you agree we should head back to Benovula, Captain?" she asked.

Archer struggled internally. He knew she was brilliant and she was undoubtedly right, but he felt conflicted. He thought his first duty was to the mission – they were already on a tight timeline according to the Suliban and the man who provided them information from the future. "That's your recommendation?" he asked.

She gave a single nod.

He acquiesced, "Contact the bridge and let them know."

She turned to walked out the door when Archer touched her arm and asked, "I know you feel uncomfortable. Maybe it would be easier to do something else … provide me a sedative until we reach Benovula?"

She examined his face with curiosity. "I am uncomfortable, yes. However, Dr. Phlox's recommendation to provide neuropressure may have longer lasting benefits. Allow me to meditate and I will assist you. 1400 hours?"

"You're okay with this?" he asked, releasing her arm.

"Yes. I have performed this on Commander Tucker. Why should you be any different?" she asked. 

He frowned a little, but nodded slowly. "Alright. See you in an hour."

Archer crossed his arms as T'Pol walked out of his room. He followed her out with his eyes and sighed as the door shut.

"Captain, let me know in the meantime if you need anything," said Phlox, interrupting Archer's thoughts.

Archer nodded. "Thanks, Doc."

Phlox twisted his smile and contorted it across his face, "My pleasure." Phlox's large feet pattered toward the door and he left. 

Archer thought at least an hour would buy him time for a shower. He wasn't sure what this neuropressure involved. However, he thought with a smile, it sounded sexy. He shook his head – maybe he'd take a cold shower.

T'Pol's Quarters 1400 Hours 

Archer arrived feeling jittery. He blew out a deep breath and thumbed the door chime. 

T'Pol greeted him in a red pantsuit. Archer swallowed deeply, wanting to rush in and kiss her, and run away simultaneously.

Archer asked, "I hope I'm not too much trouble."

T'Pol raised her eyebrow and said, "Of course not. And, I am off duty until 1530 hours."

The room was darkly lit, except for a few candles, and she was playing something that sounded like jazz in the background. He felt his pulse quicken. "Jazz?" he asked. He listened to the tune for a moment and let a smile creep across his face, "Miles Davis, isn't it?"

"Yes," she said with a small amount of surprise. "I came to … enjoy … jazz while on Earth." She turned around as Archer loomed in the doorway. "Are you coming in?" she asked.

"Uhm, sure," he said. As he entered he felt his heart actually begin to race. His head filled with the spice of the room –T'Pol's smell was all around him. He felt lost, enveloped in her scent. He backed toward the door. "Maybe this was a bad idea."

"Why?" she asked.

There was no way in hell he could tell her why. He shook his head and said, "Just giving you an out."

She raised her eyebrow. "Go ahead and take your shirt, shoes and socks off."

Archer's stomach did cartwheels. "I'm sorry?"

"I said you should begin removing your shirt, shoes and socks."

His heart strangled his throat and he winced. "Alright," he eked out. He tried thinking of unpleasant things as he felt his body also begin to leap to excitement. He took a deep breath and chanted in his mind, 'She's just a woman. She's my first officer. She's just a woman. She's my first officer.' His shoes and socks came off rather easily. For some reason his hand slowed when taking off his shirt. He watched T'Pol lean over another candle and light it. He stared up at the ceiling chanting the same thing in his mind, focusing on the 'first officer' part.

She turned around to find him undoing the last button. "Do you always undress this slowly?"

"Ah, no," he smirked.

Her eyes lingered on his chest for a moment as she said matter-of-factly, "Vulcan neuropressure is the act of stimulating specific nerve endings. I'll focus on several areas of your body. For Commander Tucker, I have been performing something to induce sleep. For you, I will attempt to enhance your mood." She decided not to mention she'd also be focusing on curbing his libido. Judging from even her platonic neuropressure sessions with Commander Tucker, humans found neuropressure, in general, to be somewhat embarrassing. She knew this would be more intimate than her sessions with the engineer, but hoped it would relieve her friend of depression and awkwardness.

Archer nodded, trying not to stare at her attire.

"Very well. Because of the endings I would like to stimulate, I would prefer you lie on your back."

His ears didn't catch it, but his body sure did. "Huh?"

She raised her eyebrow. "Lie on your back, Captain."

He walked over to her bed and lay down. She leaned over him and said, "Relax. Close your eyes."

He shut his eyes and chanted louder in his mind as he felt her fingers tap along his waist to his hipbone. This was torture; his body struggled against his mind.

Her hands pressed into his side with incredible strength. She instructed, "Breathe deeply."

He squinted, furrowing his brow in concentration and trying to take a deep breath.

"Hmmmm," she said, pressing both hipbones. "You are not relaxing."

Archer felt her splayed onto his stomach and felt his mind losing the battle. He opened his eyes to let her know she should probably stop, when he noticed her face was hovering over his chest as she performed this movement. He called her attention, "T'Pol?"

She looked into his face as his body won out a little. She removed her hands, obliviously, "Was it painful?"

"No … I just don't think this was such a good idea," he winced, beginning to sit up.

"Why?"

He sighed and whispered, "It's getting a little personal." Her face was so close to his. 

"Neuropressure could be considered personal," she countered. "Perhaps if you lie on your stomach. I will attempt to help you relax first."

He nodded slowly and changed his position.

"We'll start here," she said, touching either side of his neck.

He withered at her touch … well, most of him. He felt her fingers duck where his hair met his neck and press softly, then with more pressure. "That feels good," he said groggily.

"This should help relax you. Remain quiet."

Her hands traveled down his muscular back, stopping to tap at muscles in his body he didn't know he had. Tiny goosebumps sprang up on his arms, and he felt a little sleepy. Her fingers walked down his spine, toward his waistline. She rubbed the last vertebrae at his lower back as he felt his legs begin to tingle, especially his feet. 

She leaned toward him and whispered, "You seem much more at peace. I will attempt to stimulate those nerve endings again. Continue to relax."

He murmured, "Okay."

She whispered in his ear, "Lie on your back."

He turned over wearily as her hands pressed against his hipbones again. He shivered internally at her touch as a warmth filled his stomach. He was beginning to tense up again and looked at her with something deeper than lust. He touched her hand, leaning up a little with one elbow, "I think you should stop."

"Do you not trust me? I could feel you begin to tense again," she commented, sitting down on the bed.

He let go of her hand and sat up. He realized how innocent this was to her. "I'm in a woman's dimly lit quarters with soft music playing in the background. I'm sitting half-naked on her bed while she seemingly caresses me." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Even if I wasn't drugged by the Benovulans, I might still feel …." 

She searched his eyes. "I did not intend for this to be the reaction. I apologize."

Archer envied how Trip spent the majority of his nights. No wonder he was so eager to return. Jon's eyes focused on the graceful slant of her delicate ear. He always wanted to press lips to it … ever since he could remember. Something about taking the tip of her ear gently in his teeth made the right side of his face slope up. He traced his index finger up her slender ear and fingered the tip. "It's not your fault. You're just so beautiful."

She neither withdrew from his touch, nor encouraged it. "Captain," she whispered. 

He wanted desperately to push her onto the bed and kiss her. He wanted to run his tongue along her neck. He lowered his lids and sucked in a deep breath, battling the image and the urge to press his mouth to hers. He stood up. "I should … I should probably get going."

"Dr. Phlox indicated it was unhealthy for you to be alone. I would not recommend it. I can work from my quarters easily and would welcome the company."

"I don't think I can," he protested. "I don't think it's the right thing to do." He didn't want to leave, but couldn't stay. He picked up his shirt and began buttoning it. 

"What are your plans?" she asked, crossing over to him.

"Go back to my quarters."

"I was unable to assist your mood," she cautioned.

He continued to put on his shirt.

"We will reach the planet shortly," countered T'Pol. "The time you spend with me will be short. I think you should stay."

"I'm afraid I'll do something I'll regret," he admitted. 

"You have not yet."

'No, but God knows I want to,' he thought. "I stroked your ear."

"I doubt you will do anything further."

He stopped what he was doing and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "I'm having trouble maintaining control." He pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, "I think I might do something rash."

She said hoarsely, "You can meditate with me. That may help control your feelings and thoughts."

His face inched up to hers and his nose brushed hers. "I don't want to control them," he said, his breath on her lips.

She felt on the verge of a gasp, but remained silent. She swallowed deeply, waiting for something to happen.

His lips began to make a dive towards hers, when he backed away suddenly. He wiped his hand over his face and said, "Call me when we reach the planet, will ya?" He grabbed his shoes and forced himself to cross the threshold of her cabin. He continued forward without looking back or saying anything else. 

She thought his behavior since their return from the planet was bizarre. Something stuck in her mind – he was attracted to her for some unknown reason. In point of fact, the evidence Dralan gave was that perhaps he was attracted to her before, but his symptoms were now ridiculously exaggerated due to this drug. 'That certainly puts an interesting edge on our relationship,' she thought. She corrected herself, 'Friendship.' She leaned over a candle and blew it out, deep in thought.

He made a beeline for his cabin and threw his shoes on the ground. As the door slipped shut, he shoved his hands in hair. He was at the peak of frustration. Every minute with her was excruciatingly tantalizing. Every gesture he received from her left him craving more. Her lips decimeters from his caused his mouth to numb with delight. Her hands kneading his flesh tickled his stomach and brain. Her fingers wrapped around his hipbone …. 

He crawled into bed and put the covers over around his neck. He felt cold, tired and alone. He shut his eyes and hoped he'd wake up and everything would be back to normal, or at least he'd have dream that was somewhat more satisfying than real life.

'Four hours ETA to Benovula,' thought Archer. 'Four lousy hours.'

[top]

Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.   
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.   
Reviews provided by Monica. 


	4. Best First Contact Ever 4

Site and resources: the 602 Club Home | About the 602club.com | Contact Me | Directions to Other Bars (Links)   
Stories: Neat (G - PG13) | With a Twist (R)   
Episodes: Reviews | Character Bios   


Best First Contact Ever - Chapter Four 

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine 

"Sub-commander T'Pol to Captain Archer," ordered the comm.

Archer's thumb weakly depressed the button. "Yes," he said, jerking to attention. Just hearing her voice sent a chill down his spine.

"Captain?" she asked.

"Yes?" he asked clearing the cobwebs from his head.

"We have reached the planet. We are currently in orbit."

"What time is it?" he asked hoarsely.

"It's 1900 hours. Have you been asleep this entire time?"

"Uhm, yeah," he said, sitting up with effort.

"I'll meet you at your quarters in fifteen minutes. Would that give you sufficient time to prepare?"

"Yeah. I'll see you in fifteen."

He changed into his uniform just as the door chimed. Again, his brain panicked. He hadn't combed his hair or brushed his teeth. He ran into the bathroom and did both quickly, hoping to look well groomed. He was getting sick of the drug's effect, and his need to primp himself before seeing her. 

The door swished open. He stared in awe at T'Pol, who was wearing a purple cat suit and seemed to have a soft glow around her. She asked after noticing his stare, "Are you ready?"

He sighed deeply and touched her arm lightly. Just the feel of her skin sent a jolt of electricity, a spark, through every nerve of his body. "Yeah," he whispered.

They walked down the hall together. Rather than keep his gaze ahead, he continued to follow her with his eyes. As they rounded the corner to the shuttle bay, Trip barred the door. The commander was wearing a glower and was leaning against the doorframe.

"Cap'n, maybe you can help me out, 'cuz the sub-commander sure can't. Why are you heading back to Benovula instead of checking out the cloaked sphere?"

Archer's eyes remained on T'Pol.

Trip continued, "I thought you were all fired up to get the Xindi. Remember, 'whatever it takes …'?"

It was almost as if Archer couldn't hear him, his gaze was intensely focused on T'Pol. His hand briefly touched her hair and he dipped his nose as if to smell her shampoo.

T'Pol turned to Archer as if in slow motion and raised her eyebrow. "Captain?" 

Archer leaned into her. "Yes?"

Tucker put his hands on his hips and called out, "Jon?"

He received no response.

T'Pol motioned to Tucker as all three of them walked into the shuttle bay. "Commander, " she began quietly, "the captain has been affected by a drug given to him on Benovula. Because of the effects he appears to be … attracted to me."

"No kidding," said Trip. His eyebrows shot up against his hairline.

"I hope you will keep this information to yourself. I do not wish to embarrass the captain."

Trip said, "Alright. But, I still think you're wrong. Our first priority is the Xindi."

"Over the captain?" T'Pol countered. "We have already discussed this."

"Jon?" asked Trip, snapping his fingers in front of the captain's face. 

His voice was still drowned out by T'Pol. Archer ran his hand down her back, resting it almost at her waist. 

Trip looked surprised by this maneuver. "Must've been some kind of drug. I just can't believe Captain Archer would make that kind of decision."

"He agreed with my recommendation," she said.

"Appears he'd agree with anything you say," commented Trip snidely.

She raised an annoyed eyebrow at him, but remained stoic. 

"I should go with you," stated Commander Tucker.

"Commander, I have asked you to command Enterprise. Your place is here. It would be foolish for all three of the most senior officers to go to the planet."

"But it's okay for you and the captain?" asked Trip.

"Yes," she noted. "He needs my assistance." During the discussion, she noticed Archer's hand was stroking her back, making gentle swirling patterns. She felt his fingers caressing her spine. The gesture seemed less lascivious and more sweet. She decided not to draw attention to it and allowed him to continue.

"I don't like this, Sub-commander!" accused Trip.

"Commander, I have given you an order."

"I take my orders from Captain Archer. Captain?" he asked.

She said, "I have given you an order. As the first officer, I outrank you, Commander."

"Begging your pardon, but …," began Trip.

Archer snapped out of his obsession long enough to add his two cents. "Trip, T'Pol gave you an order. Give the sub-commander the respect she deserves. She's your senior officer." He added darkly, "Understood?"

Trip shied away, scolded. "Yes, sir."

Archer added, "Listen, I appreciate your help. But, right now I need you here."

Trip nodded. He asked, "Why go back to Benovula?"

Archer said, "I thought T'Pol's recommendation was sound. It shouldn't delay us long."

"You said, 'Whatever it takes," mentioned Trip. "Do you remember?"

Archer felt conflicted. He noticed his hand was still stroking T'Pol's back. He stopped the motion and wiped his hand over his face. He grunted, "I remember, Trip. We'll be back shortly." 

T'Pol added, "We will contact you as soon as possible." She turned to Archer, "Are you ready, Captain?"

"Yes," smiled Archer, trailing behind her.

They entered the bay as Trip put his hands on his hips and huffed in irritation.

**************************************************************************** 

T'Pol had realized Archer's symptoms had gotten significantly worse. She had to take the shuttle controls as Archer was literally unable to maintain his focus away from her. Even as they climbed out of the shuttle, Archer slipped his arm around her, helping her out. His fingers lingered on her hip, kneading the fabric.

"Captain," T'Pol rebuked, scrambling away from his touch. Her eyes scanned the area. She had agreed to meet Councilman Dralan at the established coordinates, but didn't see him. She raised her eyebrow and murmured, "Curious."

She withdrew her scanner and waved it in the air. Suddenly, she spotted something unexpected … Xindi bio-signs within a mile radius. She whispered, "Xindi readings, due East."

He gave a curt nod, withdrawing his phase pistol and followed T'Pol as they sneaked their way through a large gate, into the government building. It was large and marble. It was mostly open with easy access. They crept through corridors, passing statues and paintings of dignitaries. Finally, T'Pol motioned toward a large rotunda in front of them. The room was scattered with marble columns. Councilwoman Larana was talking quietly with one of the reptilian Xindi. T'Pol ducked behind an old marble column as Archer followed suit, eavesdropping on the conversation.

"I gave you what you wanted," said Larana, her voice nearing vexation.

"That wasn't enough. I know you have an entire Earth database," said the Xindi.

"You must be mistaken," countered Larana.

T'Pol glanced over at Archer who seemed angry, but quiet.

"I know that you have it. Just like I know you have visitors probably somewhere around here," said the reptilian Xindi. He flicked his forked tongue to smell the air and smiled sinisterly. 

Archer could almost guess what was going to come next. They'd agreed to meet Dralan. He'd guessed the councilman was a spy, providing the Xindi information about their arrival. 

Suddenly the Xindi started walking around the room. "Yes, they're in here somewhere."

Larana instinctively knew who it was. She'd been expecting their arrival ever since they'd left. She cocked her head to one side, "Who, Dorath?"

Dorath smiled. "I think you already know." He flicked out his tongue again.

Archer changed the notch on his gun to kill as he watched T'Pol perform the same action. As she turned the setting her phase pistol made a quiet click … but was loud enough that Dorath heard it. 

Dorath walked toward the columns as Larana stated, "I've given you what you want. I'd like you to leave."

"You have received your payment," said Dorath walking toward Archer and T'Pol, still hidden. "I might be able to live with our current arrangement, if I can have something …. A human."

"I said you should leave," asserted Larana again.

Dorath pressed a small device on his belt. "I have some unfinished business to attend to though." As soon as the button was pressed, Archer and T'Pol saw two more Xindi burst into the room holding much larger weapons. They began quickly running toward Archer and T'Pol's location. The two officers from Enterprise heard weapons being charged. 

"Come out, and I'll let you live," explained Dorath. He smiled vulgarly, wielding a large sidearm.

Archer and T'Pol remained silent. Archer looked over at T'Pol. Although he was able to make decisions, he found just looking at her made it difficult to focus on the problem at hand. He tried to shake his mind into submission, though doing so was much harder than yesterday.

Two more reptilian Xindi ran closer to Archer and T'Pol's location. As they were almost on top of them, T'Pol nodded to Archer. They moved away from the columns momentarily, raised their weapon and fired – each bringing down the Xindi in front of them. Dorath, though, seemed to anticipate this maneuver and filed a single shot at the only person directly in his line of sight – T'Pol. 

T'Pol had just watched her near assailant hit the floor, unaware of the impending doom. As if in slow motion, Archer watched the weapon fire at his first officer. Before he could think, he leapt in front of her. As he hurled himself in the air, Dorath's shot grazed Archer's left shoulder, where his shoulder and neck meet. Blood spurted in all directions. And, as he fell to the ground, T'Pol noticed blood had already began soaking through his uniform. Archer grimaced momentarily and hit the floor with a resounding thud. He was unconscious; his phase pistol knocked from his hand, clattering through the hall.

Larana screamed, kicking the weapon from Dorath's hand as the Vulcan leveled her phase pistol at the Xindi and pulled the trigger. The Xindi crumpled onto the marble floor at the feet of the councilwoman, leaving a trail of greenish-yellow blood behind him. Larana looked at the scene in front of her with regret and disdain. 

T'Pol quickly pulled out her communicator and said, "T'Pol to Enterprise. Three to transport at my coordinates immediately. Have Dr. Phlox and a medical team meet me at the transporter. The captain has been injured."

As she gave the order, more reptilian Xindi burst into the room. T'Pol cradled Archer's sagging body to her chest, protecting him from further fire, as the transporter beam locked onto them. As their visage shimmered, another shot was fired, skidding through the translucent particles.

******************************************************************************** 

As the three solidified on the transporter platform, Archer's body was draped over T'Pol's arm. She'd realized that red blood had stained her suit and was already dripping onto the platform, pooling beneath them. 

Phlox ran over to them and flung out his medical scanner. He motioned to two male assistants as they heaved Archer onto a transportable stretcher. As they began to strap Archer's body to the bed, the security guard who'd operated the transporter walked up to the first officer. She walked off the transporter, distractedly looking at the captain and said, "Please escort Councilwoman Larana to the empty quarters on C Deck." 

The man nodded and took Larana by the arm. The councilwoman objected quietly as T'Pol followed Phlox to Sickbay. As they entered the room, she stopped dead in her tracks. Archer's face was already ashen and his clothes near the wound were completely soaked with blood. Phlox began to cut feverishly at the torso of Archer's uniform with a pair of scissors. As he was doing so, the captain was moved in front of the bio-readings screen. His life signs dipped; his heart rate beeped slowly. Phlox's frown had wormed across his face with grave concern. He looked over at one of his assistants and ordered, "Prepare 2 CCs of a stimulant."

Phlox splayed open the uniform and looked at the captain's wound. Even through the copious amounts of blood, he could tell Archer was hit in the shoulder/neck region, possibly severing the arteries that flowed to his brain. The doctor's face turned more grim as he began hurriedly collecting materials to take the captain into surgery. He was afraid the man would suffer loss of oxygen, resulting in death or brain damage. As Phlox collected the materials, T'Pol asked, "What is the prognosis?"

Phlox didn't stop, he mumbled, "Not good. His left innominate artery has been severed. If I don't get him into surgery right away, he could suffer brain damage or die."

One assistant walked over and shot the stimulant into Archer's neck near the wound. Jon's face tightened and he let out a small moan. His eyes fluttered quickly and he had trouble focusing.

T'Pol loomed over the bed. Archer tried to focus on her and noticed her typically stoic veneer was melting into concern. 

"You should not have protected me," she stated.

"I wanted to. I'd do it again," he whispered, having difficulty speaking.

She raised her eyebrow at him. "It's your condition that affected your judgment."

The other assistant pumped another hypospray into Archer's neck that seemed to dim his eyes. His voice became more hoarse as he mumbled, "Maybe."

"You should have allowed me to take the weapon's fire. You need not risk your life for me."

"I wanted … I want … to make sure you're safe." The fingers of his right hand lightly entwined hers.

She furrowed her brow. "You would do the same for any crewman," she stated.

His fingers began to go limp as he whispered, "I don't think so."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

As the hyposprays began to take affect, Archer realized he couldn't stop the truth from being uttered from his lips. "I'm not in love with _any _crewman, T'Pol." 

She whispered, "I don't understand."

His eyes shut and his breathing slowed. Alarms attached to the bio-readings clanged. Phlox ordered, "Sub-commander, I'll need you to leave." He slipped a rubber apron on and picked up a scalpel as she backed away from the captain. Touching him, she had known that what he said was absolutely true. But, having his feelings in the open confused her. 

Phlox made an incision into Archer's flesh and said harshly, "I'm ordering you out of Sickbay." 

She barely found her footing as she managed to back into the hallway. As the doors closed, T'Pol reached out a hand and stroked the door lightly. Just the thought of having his life extinguished was tearing at her logic. She regained a small part of her control and straightened her spine. She headed toward the Bridge. Chances were good if a Xindi was on the planet, a ship was not far away. And, knowing their capabilities, she knew Enterprise would be outgunned. As she stepped from the turbolift, Reed stood from the command chair. "The captain?" he asked.

"Unknown," she responded without emotion. She turned to the beta shift science officer. "Is there a Xindi ship in the vicinity?"

The dark skinned female officer peered into the scanner and with a horrified expression stammered, "Yes, yes ma'am." The woman continued, "They are only coming into scanning range now."

"Tactical alert, Lt. Reed."

He pressed a few buttons on his console and said, "Aye, aye." The bridge was bathed in a red flashing light.

She crossed over to the captain's chair and held her position there. "Bring hull plating and phase cannons online," she stated.

Reed looked up, "They're online."

She tentatively placed her boot at the helmsman's station and leaned onto the console, as she'd noted Archer had done countless times before. 

She asked, "What bearing is the Xindi ship?"

Lt. Saul at the science station said, "Bearing mark 2 point 4. It's coming about, ma'am."

Reed called out, "They're bringing their weapons online."

T'Pol called out, "Fire."

Reed punched a few buttons, engaging the phase cannons in a dazzling barrage. He grinned at the yield and watched the scout ship take heavier than normal losses. He knew he'd incapacitated it.

Saul called out, "Their weapons are down."

T'Pol looked over at Ensign Sato and asked, "Begin communicating a surrender protocol …."

Suddenly the view screen lit up as the small ship blew up into tiny pieces. The screen was ablaze with fire, ship fragments and space debris. T'Pol stared at the screen with puzzlement. After watching the debris scatter she turned to Malcolm. "Lt. Reed, did you aim to disarm?"

He was drawn to the site of the fiery sparks of light on the screen and whispered, "Of course, Sub-commander." He looked back over his readings and confirmed, "Only their engines were targeted."

Hoshi clutched at the device in her ear and commented, "I believe I translated their last communication. They self-destructed."

T'Pol raised her eyebrow. "Why?"

Saul nodded. "Scans confirm the blast began in their Engineering department … internally."

T'Pol clasped her hands behind her back and stared at the particles beginning to fan out into space. 

Reed looked away from his console. "Sub-commander. I would possibly do the same … if I was in charge and I knew the Xindi would capture us."

T'Pol nodded in agreement, but felt disappointed. She whispered to Mayweather who stared into the view screen ahead, "Set a course for the sphere. Warp 3." 

He nodded and wiggled his fingers across the board.

She backed away from the helm and looked at Reed. "Lt., you have the Bridge. I have a guest to speak with."

He nodded as she headed into the turbolift and for Deck C. As the lift opened its doors, she saw one of the assistants from Sickbay. "Ensign Mathers?" she asked.

He was surprised she knew his name. He'd heard she was an ice queen –not very friendly. "Yes."

"The captain?" she asked.

"He just came out of surgery when I left. Phlox thinks he'll be just fine."

She felt overwhelming relief and blinked slowly. "Thank you," she commented.

He smiled, "You're welcome."

She inclined her head and continued walking down the corridor to talk with Larana. Every step she took toward the councilwoman's quarters, she wondered about her feelings of relief. As the first officer, it was good to know Enterprise's captain would pull through. She thought about her friend and was pleased he would recover. She was also thankful that the captain did not sacrifice his life for hers. But, something nagged at her. Perhaps it was the captain's last comments in Sickbay; she had a feeling roaming around in her stomach which she was unaccustomed to. She tried to place it as she came to Larana's door. 

The security guard there opened the door for the sub-commander and she stepped through the portal.

"Why did you bring me onboard?" the councilwoman asked. She was used to having people answer her questions. As the woman in charge of their council, she answered to no one. 

"You sold the human database to the Xindi," commented T'Pol. "Why?"

"I wanted to keep my negotiating options open," she said. 

"You have betrayed the people aboard this vessel, and possibly the millions of people that inhabit their planet."

Larana disagreed, "The only information the Xindi received was the cultural information. I would never give them help in destroying the humans."

"Any information you give to them is potentially dangerous to Earth," corrected T'Pol. 

"I guess we can agree to disagree."

"Why did you betray them?" asked T'Pol.

Larana turned her head and stared out the window. "I do not answer to you."

"No, you do not," replied the Vulcan. "However, given the speech you made the day we joined you, it seemed you were more interested in peace and friendship." T'Pol raised her eyebrows. "I would not have thought you would betray the Earthlings."

Larana's violet eyes flew back at T'Pol. "There are situations on my planet you do not understand."

"Explain them."

"Benovula needs revenue. And, I need my people, whether I personally like the Xindi or not, to be in their good graces. They are becoming the most powerful force in the Expanse," remarked Larana.

"But the wars with your people? I would not have thought you would so quickly ally yourselves with them," stated T'Pol.

Larana shrugged. "I see the larger picture for my world. I would like it to survive, regardless of my hatred for a people that enslaved Benovulans." 

"The fact that The Xindi enslaved your people seems an excellent reason not to allow them to take power in the Expanse." T'Pol added, "You mentioned their enslavement included your grandparents."

Larana nodded slowly. "The rest of Benovula forgets."

"But, you do not."

"I don't like what I did. I felt it necessary. My people have been through enough," said the stateswoman.

"These are not the principles your people live by. Why lower your standards for mere wealth?" asked T'Pol.

Larana remained quiet. She thought about their economic difficulties, but there was an ounce of truth to what T'Pol had said. The fact that she hated delivering the database to the Xindi should have given her pause for thought. The values of her people were more important than small economic gains. But, she felt she was right to court the Xindi, even if she didn't like them. They would be powerful allies.

As if reading her mind, T'Pol said, "I believe you will find the humans to be important allies. My people have. I have been … impressed with the achievements they have made. If they are the victors in a Xindi war or free the Expanse from their oppression, no doubt your people would benefit greatly."

Larana furrowed her brow. 

"You cannot cater to both sides for long, Councilwoman."

Larana took a deep breath. "Am I your prisoner?"

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "No, you are a guest for the time being, although I would like to discuss something else with you."

"About your captain?"

T'Pol gave one nod. "You gave him a drug …."

Larana smiled and sat down. She crossed her legs and twirled her hair. "He seemed willing to mate with me …."

T'Pol sat down across from her. "Having taken the drug, though, he did not wish to mate with you. I do not understand."

Larana stopped twirling her hair. "The drug is intended to intensify feelings. Undoubtedly, he was more interested in you," said Larana with a small frown.

T'Pol sat back in the chair. "Dr. Phlox referred to it as a catalyst."

"That's an accurate description. I touched him during the day. On my planet that's a way of …." She searched for the right words.

The first officer asked, "Marking your territory?"

"Yes. In a way. When he did not move from my advances, I took that as a positive sign. I confirmed with him verbally before giving him the tea that contains the herb." Larana continued, "Once he drank it, he should've responded to me."

"He believed the elixir to be a drink of friendship with your people." T'Pol asked with confusion, "But, I do not understand why he responded to me instead."

"He had a stronger attraction to you."

T'Pol asked, "His symptoms grew worse?"

"Feelings and attraction became more intense until coupling occurs." She looked at T'Pol and asked, "I take it you two have not …?"

The Vulcan remained silent.

Larana smiled, "He is a handsome man. Strong. Intelligent. Friendly. Bold. Charming. I gathered, having walked through the museum with him he appreciated art, music and particularly literature. _I _find him quite irresistible. I take it he is well?"

"It appears he will survive," remarked T'Pol.

Larana said, "He's obviously chosen you …. Your physiology looks … similar. Why not …?"

T'Pol's eyes grew dark. She did not want to explain Vulcan mating rituals to this woman. She instead asked, "Is there something I can administer to him to … remove the effects?"

Larana shook her head. "No. We have no need to remove these effects. On my planet, mating is quite natural. Friends and strangers even participate, if there is mutual physical attraction. It obviously is not as highly guarded as on your planet."

The first officer furrowed her brow. 

Larana offered, "He's attracted to you. He obviously cares deeply about you. After all, he saved your life." She watched the Vulcan internally struggle for the right thing to do. "He indicated you were friends. It does not seem so overwhelming a task."

T'Pol was slightly angered this woman had no idea of the consequences of her actions, either in selling the human's database or in drugging someone against his will. She struggled with whether she should divulge that Dralan was the spy. He was had sold out Larana and Enterprise. The Vulcan said, "If you assist me in removing the affects from Captain Archer, I will tell you the name of the spy on your planet."

The Benovulan said, "I don't know how to remove the affects other than copulation."

T'Pol decided to do something that she normally wouldn't. She put her hand on Larana's arm and asked, "Are you sure?"

Larana tried to sit back in her chair, as T'Pol's grip held steadfast. She said with fear, "I'm sure, Sub-commander."

T'Pol released her arm, satisfied the answer was accurate. She rose and said, "I will ensure you have something to eat."

Larana began to protest again as T'Pol walked out of the room. The Vulcan's mind was jumbled with confusing emotions. She sorted through the conflict as she made her way to Sickbay.

She entered and saw a more jovial doctor. 

"Ah! Sub-commander T'Pol," he beamed. 

She looked at Archer, who was still sound asleep, and then back at the physician. "I spoke with Ensign Mathers who indicated everything was a success."

"Yes," acknowledged Phlox. "In human physiology with a wound like that, it could cut off circulation. But, he appears to be doing just fine. I'd like to relieve him of duty for the next four days while he recuperates."

"When will he awake?" she asked.

Phlox said, "Should be anytime …."

He was interrupted by Archer's stirring. Both Phlox and T'Pol gathered at the bio-bed. The captain asked hoarsely, "How'd I get here?"

Phlox replied, "Sub-commander T'Pol brought you here. Don't you remember?"

Archer smiled at T'Pol, obviously still enamored. He tried to sit up, as he felt an ache in his shoulder. He groaned and fell weakly back on the bed.

Phlox continued, "Your shoulder was injured on Benovula. It should be sore for a while. I've ordered you off duty for the time being."

Archer nodded in comprehension.

T'Pol leaned over. "It was foolish to dive in front of me. A simple request to move out of the way is all I required."

Phlox grinned widely and folded his arms smugly, watching the interaction.

Jon smirked, "I'll remember that next time." He glanced over her. Despite the furrow in her brow and a large blotch of red blood on her clothing, she looked radiant. He asked nodding to the stain, "That mine?"

She looked at the blood on her clothing and realized in her preoccupation, she hadn't changed. "Yes."

Phlox joined in, "T'Pol acted very quickly in bringing you back."

Archer grinned more broadly.

"Captain, do you remember what you told me in Sickbay before?" asked T'Pol.

"Before? Before just now?" he asked.

"Yes, when we first arrived," mentioned T'Pol. She ignored Phlox's gleeful stare keeping her attention on the captain.

"I just remember waking up here. Why? What did I say?" asked Jon.

Phlox split his face with a grotesquely friendly smile, still peering at the Vulcan.

T'Pol backed away from the bio-bed. "Nothing." She put her hands behind her back. "I am pleased to see you are awake. Councilwoman Larana is also aboard."

Archer's grin flattened. "Oh?"

"She was unable to assist in your … ailment," she commented.

Archer raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I'm more concerned about her selling out my people. I can't believe she would hand over the database to the Xindi."

"I am not certain they still have that information. A scout ship orbiting the planet self-destructed, possibly taking the information with it." She could read his bewilderment and said, "I will explain it in more detail later."

"You say the Xindi don't have the information? I wouldn't be so sure," he said. He looked deeply into her eyes and smiled again. "I didn't mean to imply you were wrong. I was just saying that they continue to surprise me."

She raised her eyebrow. "I understand." She added, "The councilwoman indicated the information was only cultural."

"I don't trust her. And _any _information could be damaging."

"Agreed. What would you like me to do with her?"

"Do you have a recommendation?" he asked.

"Return her to the planet."

"Why?" asked Archer.

"Because we have no use for her."

He stared into her green eyes. She was so beautiful. Her voice sounded like a siren's song. Phlox watched Archer's pulse and heart rate continue to increase. Jon nodded slowly. 

"Very well," she replied. She turned to Phlox. "When will you be able to release him?"

"I'd like to keep him over night. If all goes well, I should be able to release him tomorrow."

T'Pol hesitated and asked, "I assume he can have visitors?"

Phlox remarked, "Although I have several animals in here, I'm not certain I want to have Porthos …."

She interrupted, "I was referring to myself."

"Oh?" asked the physician, as the same creepy smile fell onto his lips.

Archer said, "I'd love it if you came by."

T'Pol straightened herself and nodded. "Very well. I will bring you something to eat later?"

Archer's right hand took hers. "That'd be great."

Rather than slip her hand out of his grasp, she let it linger as she replied, "I will speak with you later then." She gave his hand a light squeeze and walked out the door.

Phlox had shock written all over his face. He turned to Archer. "This is getting interesting."

Archer's grin turned dopey as he sighed. "God, she's wonderful." 

[top]

Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.   
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.   
Reviews provided by Monica. 


	5. Best First Contact Ever 5

Site and resources: the 602 Club Home | About the 602club.com | Contact Me | Directions to Other Bars (Links)   
Stories: Neat (G - PG13) | With a Twist (R)   
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Best First Contact Ever - Chapter Five 

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine 

T'Pol went back to her quarters to change outfits feeling somewhat bewildered. She wasn't quite sure why she went back to Sickbay. Perhaps in her mind she was resolved that if Larana's only remedy to Archer's illness was copulation, then so be it.

It was against her upbringing to give herself in this fashion. It was against Vulcan tradition. But, the captain needed her and she wished to help him. It was logical, in the end.

She stripped out of her blood-stained purple outfit and put on her blue cat suit, wishing she had time to bathe. She clasped her hands behind her back and headed off to the Bridge. Her nose twitched at the air, as she smelled Captain Archer on her. She swallowed deeply and rounded the corner, walking into the turbolift. As the doors opened to the Bridge, T'Pol looked in Malcolm's direction. 

"Lt. Reed, I would like you to accompany Larana back to her planet with a small well-armed party as soon as possible. I will provide you information on where the shuttle is so that you can pilot it back to Enterprise."

He nodded and stood up. She requested, "Before you do so, request a security guard take the councilwoman to Sickbay. I am certain our guest would want to see Captain Archer again."

Malcolm shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, ma'am."

She nodded and sat regally in the captain's chair, looking dead ahead at the screen. 

************************************************************************************ 

Archer stared at the ceiling thinking about T'Pol. He couldn't resist a grin as he replayed how she'd squeezed his hand. His right fingers still tingled from her touch. 'But, why do I have to wait so long to see her again?' he asked himself. His grin began to fade quickly … he hadn't seen her in nearly thirty minutes.

The Sickbay doors opened, as Councilwoman Larana entered with a security guard. She stopped and looked over Archer's visage. His chest was bare, save for a complicated-looking shoulder sling. She walked carefully to his bedside.

Archer scowled, "What do you want?"

"The sub-commander said I could see you before heading back to the planet if I wanted to," she claimed. She was glad that T'Pol extended that courtesy. Larana wanted to ensure the captain was okay. She also felt the need to explain her behavior.

"Well, you saw me," he said, glowering.

"Captain, I'm sorry about how things worked out."

"How could you give them the database I gave to you?!" he growled.

Dr. Phlox stopped working and looked up with distraction. 

"There were many reasons."

Archer huffed.

"I'm sorry. I did not mean to hurt your people. I only provided cultural information," she offered.

"Giving them any information … _any _… is dangerous." He thought about whether the Xindi would be able to travel back through time and stop Leonardo da Vinci, the Wright Brothers, Edison … the great minds of Earth … and change history. Or maybe their alterations would be small, but noticeable. What if _Leaves of Grass_ by Walt Whitman was never written? What if the Mona Lisa was never painted? What if Beethoven's Ninth Symphony hadn't been composed. More than that, he thought about the knowledge that art, literature and music provided about a people. Earth's psyche was open and vulnerable.

"I did not intend to harm you, Captain," she explained. "The Xindi are gathering troops. I want to be in their good favor. I had to do what was right for my people."

"By selling someone else out? How is that good for your people?"

She ignored his comment. "I'm also sorry things didn't work out between us."

He scoffed, "I'm not."

She hung her head down briefly. She pulled out a small vial and gave it to him. "I think you know what this is." 

Archer grabbed it in his right hand. "No, what is it? A cure?"

"No, it's another dosage of what you were given. There is only one cure for you. You will need," she glanced at the security guard and then back to Archer, "to give this to her to induce similar symptoms. I doubt she would otherwise be willing to help you."

Archer shook his head. "No." Was she suggesting what he thought she was?

"Think about it," she said, wrapping his fingers around the vial. Before Archer could object again, she turned to the security guard. "I'm ready to return to Benovula."

The security guard nodded and escorted her out of Sickbay. Larana said before the door closed, "Good luck. I know you do not believe me, but my people are a friend to you."

She walked through them and the doors slid closed behind her.

Archer frowned. Phlox walked up and asked, "I didn't mean to eavesdrop …."

Archer gave him a sideways glance. 

Phlox continued, "But, this vial you were given … did she say it would elicit the same enamored responses from someone?"

"Yes."

"This could be very valuable, Captain. I might be able to concoct a remedy using this."

Archer perked up a little. He handed him the ingredients and said, "By all means."

Phlox grinned at the liquid and waddled over to his lab section.

***************************************************************************** 

At 1700 hours, T'Pol turned the Bridge over to Ensign Mayweather. As she climbed out of the captain's chair she said, "Ensign, please inform me when the away team has safely delivered the councilwoman."

Travis nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

With that, she entered the turbolift and headed back to her cabin. She was displeased she'd been subjected to the smell of Archer's blood for most of the day as her nasal inhibitors were wearing off. And yet, she felt something akin to comfort at its lingering scent. She knew if she was going to agree to help him, she'd have to get used to his scent.

She took a shower, meditated and changed by 2200 hours. Her mind felt refreshed; the emotions that had risen to the surface were neatly placed in the closet of her mind. She reapplied her nasal inhibitor. Everything about her felt cleansed and renewed. 

She walked to the Mess Hall and began gathering two trays of food – a vegetarian meal for herself and food she believed Archer would enjoy, including meat.

Trip walked over. "I haven't seen the captain since your visit, but heard he was in Sickbay. He alright?" he asked, taking a large plate of pie.

"Yes. He is recuperating," she said.

The engineer nodded, "Good. I was kinda worried." He noted T'Pol seemed less talkative than usual. "About that problem we discussed in the shuttle bay … everything work out?"

T'Pol stopped gathering food for a moment and responded, "Not quite."

"Did you get something that will help him?"

"No, not exactly," she replied.

He considered his next question. "Is there _anything _that will help him?"

"Yes."

Trip raised his eyebrows, expecting an answer. 

"I do not wish to discuss it."

Trip decided it best to continue gathering food. "Listen, I'm sorry about earlier."

She averted her eyes. "It is somewhat understandable."

"No. It's not," he offered. "I hope you can forgive me. Sometimes all I can think about is revenge. I know you wouldn't intentionally betray Enterprise or our mission."

She eyed him. "I am pleased you recognize that."

"I was hoping tomorrow I could come over for a neuropressure treatment around 1700 hours. I'd like to hit the hay a little early … if it's alright with you. Engineering repairs. We want to take some systems offline when fewer people will be awake using them."

She continued gathering food, stacking up the tray. "I apologize. I will not be available for neuropressure treatments tomorrow evening," she noted.

Trip kidded, "Got a hot date?"

T'Pol distractedly answered, "Perhaps."

Trip who began chuckling, realized T'Pol was serious. He raised his eyebrows, deciding whether to ask who the lucky human was. He nodded toward her tray. "Gonna see Captain Archer?"

"Yes."

Trip offered, "I know how much you hate meat and watching us eat it. Why don't I take it to him?"

"That is not necessary. I wish to bring it to him."

Trip nodded. "Tell him I said 'hi.'" He sauntered over to a table and put his things down, musing about T'Pol's hot date.

********************************************************************************* 

T'Pol took a deep cleansing breath and walked into Sickbay. Archer was asleep when she entered, but upon her arrival, woke up immediately. She noticed Dr. Phlox was out of hearing range, over in his lab and hadn't noticed her arrival. She placed the trays beside him. Archer' sat up with some difficulty, as she propped the pillows behind his back. 

He looked over at her with large, adoring eyes. "Thank you."

"Of course." She brought his tray and unveiled the contents – chicken marsala, one of his favorites. She also laid a PADD on his bed and said, "You may want to use this."

"Thanks again." He picked up a fork and set it down. "I'm surprised you let Larana drop by today. Why?"

T'Pol put her fingers around a warm mug of tea and said, "I assumed she wanted to apologize, and I thought you deserved to hear it from her."

He drank his iced tea pensively. 

T'Pol asked, "Did Larana tell you the cure for your ailment?"

Archer shifted uncomfortably. "She hinted …." he said letting his voice trail off.

"Perhaps we can discuss this in more detail tomorrow night. I understand that Dr. Phlox believes you will be out from under his care by that time?"

"So far, so good," he commented. "I'm not sure what there is to discuss, though." He wasn't sure he wanted to be alone with her again. Last time was nearly his undoing.

She raised her eyebrow. "I would do so here, but I thought in private might be the best course of action," she lied.

"Okay." He poked at his meal as he asked, "We back on course to the sphere?"

She agreed, "Yes. I should be hearing soon from Lt. Reed and his party. They escorted Councilwoman Larana back to the planet."

"Anything else to report?" he asked, trying to focus on work.

"No. All systems appear to be functioning normally."

"Good." He couldn't really eat; he was too nervously excited. He watched her nibble at her food like a rabbit. As she looked up, she noticed he was staring at her. Her eyes locked with his, and he held a tentative hand to her cheek. Rather than turn away, she allowed him to touch her. Archer was shocked, but completely thrilled. He stroked her cheek, softly. 

She kept her eyes on his. "Perhaps you should discontinue your movements in case someone enters. It might look inappropriate."

"I'm sorry." He clenched his right hand and brought it down to his side. He chided himself and mumbled, "For a moment I thought you were enjoying it."

"I was," she replied. "I do not wish to put you in an awkward situation."

Archer was puzzled, feeling the room become incredibly warm. Before he could stammer out anything, T'Pol asked, "Jonathan, what did you learn about Vulcans in school?"

He swallowed deeply, trying to wipe the shock from his face. "I guess the usual – your species was the first to contact my people, how you have rid yourself of emotion …."

"We _do _have emotion," she commented.

"I know that now, having been onboard with you for the past 2 and a half years," he explained.

'What else?"

"Your capital is Shi'Kar. Logic is like a religion to you. Surak is the father of logic …." He paused. "Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Have you known any Vulcans beside myself?" she asked.

He thought this line of questioning was strange. "I've known Ambassador Soval since I was a child. There were various others on his team I was aware of – Tovak, Starin, T'Flal and a number of others.

"Vulcan children?" she asked.

"Are you sure you're not getting at something, T'Pol?" he asked. He pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear.

"No. Vulcan children?" she asserted again.

"Maybe a couple," he said. "I wasn't really allowed to interact with them – Vulcans' choice. But, when I was a kid, I attended a ceremony of some kind. I remember talking to a Vulcan child. My father brought me along."

"What was the ceremony?" she asked.

"It's been so long," he stated. "Maybe a Vulcan celebration … seemed kinda stuffy," he said grinning. 

"I do not wish to offend you, but there is much you do not know about Vulcans. Perhaps it is best you go through the database at your earliest convenience for more information … in case we meet other Vulcans in the Expanse."

"Sure," he said. He stroked her cheek again.

She turned her face into his touch. "I would like to gather more information about humans. I am interested in your customs," she explained.

He flushed that she responded to his physical contact. He marveled at her eyes, her bone structure and her hair. "Like what? Maybe I can answer a few questions."

She peaked her eyebrow at him. "General information."

His eyes shone brilliantly at her, as a smile continued to gain altitude on his lips.

She put down her utensils and asked. "Would you like to learn a Vulcan greeting of sorts?"

"Sure," he whispered. 

She took the hand that had caressed her cheek and formed two fingers. She held her hand out and touched her two fingers with his, stroking his lightly. As she did so, his breathing began to become a little erratic, nearing a pant. He was finding it incredibly hard to think.

"What greeting is this?" he asked distractedly, looking at her mouth.

She peered into his eyes. "It is a greeting between friends, such as ourselves."

His mouth became watery. He desperately wanted to kiss her. The touching of their fingers seemed so intimate. He was having more and more difficulty crushing his feelings for her. 

She stopped her movements, and returned her hands to her lap. "Perhaps you can look that gesture up in the database."

Her voice seemed almost seductive. He was certain he was imagining things. He gazed deeply into her eyes, remaining silent, wondering what it would be like to make love to her. As soon as the thought crept its way out into the open, he sat back horrified that he'd even allowed it to escape. 

T'Pol gathered her tray and stood up. "I hope you are able to eat the food I brought you," she said. "It is rare that a Vulcan woman brings food."

He looked confused. "I didn't mean to be rude. I'm not that hungry."

"Perhaps that is a custom you will investigate in the Vulcan database."

He nodded slowly. She touched his cheek in much the same manner he had stroked hers just moments ago. "Until tomorrow. Come to my quarters at 1800. We can discuss this and Larana's suggestion in more detail."

His face nuzzled into her hand before it dropped to her side. With stoicism she straightened her spine and walked out of Sickbay, as Archer's brows dug into his forehead in captivated bewilderment.

Archer reached for his PADD and began looking into the gesture, the bringing of food and other Vulcan customs. 

************************************************************************************

Archer was released at 1700 hours the next day. He had just enough time to shower and shave before meeting T'Pol in her quarters. His shoulder was incredibly sore, but the doctor indicated the sling wasn't required. He had trouble lifting his arm without shooting pains. He gave himself a hypospray of pain medication and put on some clothes.

He let the information he'd looked up roll around in his mind. He was unsure what the gesture T'Pol had taught him was, but he was almost certain it was intimate. He did find that Vulcan females only provided food to males they were interested in, and a plethora of other information, including physiology. He trembled at the thought of her coming onto him. 'There must be some logical explanation,' he told himself, though he wished the explanation was that she was interested in him romantically.

He noticed it was nearly 1800 hours and took a deep breath. He blew it out slowly and began to walk down the hall to her quarters.

He cleared his throat and pressed his finger against the door chime. The door swished open to reveal her quarters looking much like they would if she had prepared for a neuropressure session. Her meditation candles were lit, soft music played in the background and spicy incense was wafting through the room, spilling into his nostrils. He sucked up the aroma.

"Come in," said T'Pol. As the door swished closed, he noticed she was wearing a Vulcan robe that clung tightly to her curves. 

He swiped his hand over his face. "Uhm, T'Pol …."

She poured him a glass of wine and put it into his right hand. "How is your shoulder?" she inquired.

He looked at the red wine and eyed it suspiciously. "I didn't think you drank."

"I do on rare occasions. But, this drink is for you. I thought you would like it. Chef allowed me to have this bottle from the galley."

He knew he was in trouble now. "I'm not sure I can converse about business in this setting, T'Pol," he said holding up his glass.

She offered him a seat. "May I call you Jonathan?"

He nodded slowly and sat down on the floor. He, against his better judgment, brought the wine to his lips and took a sip.

"Larana did have a suggestion about how to cure you," she began. She sat next to him on the ground and offered two fingers in the air.

Archer moved a pained arm to join her greeting. He whispered, "What was it?"

T'Pol broke contact and caressed his face with her two fingers, running them down his cheek and neck. She hesitated, waiting to put the information about humans she had researched recently into practice. She brought her mouth slowly to his. As her lips pursed against his, she felt a heat emanating from him – a warmth almost as hot as the Vulcan deserts. Emotions ticked her, prickling her skin. She could tell Jonathan was surprised, pleased and wary.

His mouth moved against hers, parting her lips gingerly with his tongue. As he did so, he gasped into her mouth. His body became acutely aware of how good this felt. Her lips were cool like the Pacific Ocean near San Francisco – not what he imagined. His mouth met hers again more eagerly and greedily. As their lips parted, he dove for them again, more aggressively. And again. Each kiss became more and more passionate. He placed his wine glass on the ground without looking, and grabbed both hands around her, bringing her mouth hard against his. 

His pulse quickened and beating loudly in his throat, amongst other places. He backed off suddenly, his eyes wide with fear. She leaned forward and nipped at his lips softly. He fell into her trance, returning a softer embrace and then backed away again. "Why are you doing this?"

T'Pol smoothed her hand against Archer's chest. "Jonathan, Councilwoman Larana's only remedy was copulation between us." She placed her finger on his lips and traced them. He closed his eyes and kissed at them. 

He absently said, kissing at her fingertips, "Phlox believes that he can create a cure." He took her palm to his mouth and pressed his lips against it, "Larana gave me something today that Phlox could use."

T'Pol withdrew her hand from Archer's lips. "Did the doctor indicate if and when he could have the remedy?"

His mouth enveloped the tip of her ear, as he whispered, "He didn't say."

"What did she provide to you?" she asked.

His suckled her earlobe, "Another dose of what she gave to me." He retreated and looked into her eyes.

"Why?" asked T'Pol.

He murmured, "She hinted this might be the only way to help me, and thought I should use it on you."

He searched her face, trying to ascertain what she was thinking. The one emotion he could gather from her eyes was resignation.

She raised an eyebrow. "I do not wish for you to suffer further." She slipped her hand underneath his shirt and whispered, "I have studied various human mating rituals."

"Oh?" he asked, distractedly. His mouth sought hers. 

She stroked his chest as he began panting again. His hands darted through her hair; his lips lowering to her neck, devouring it.

"I take it you enjoy this?" she asked. 

"You could say that," he replied, huskily. 

As she began to push his shirt up, he reached for her hand. Huffing he said, "I don't want you to do this."

She kissed his neck in return and whispered, "I thought you indicated it was pleasurable."

"That's not it. I .. this just doesn't feel right."

"Would the bed be more appropriate?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said dopily. He caught himself as T'Pol was beginning to stand. He grabbed her hand and dragged her gently back to the floor. "No, it's just that …. I don't want to take advantage of you."

She met his lips tenderly and said softly, "I am giving my consent."

He kissed her again with more passion. "Why are you giving your consent?"

"To assist you," she responded as his mouth met hers.

His head was completely filled with her. He intently watched her every breath, every word … judging whether she was willingly giving her consent. But, something in the back of his mind rang this action between them was wrong. He had millions of questions to ask, including what would happen after tonight. 

T'Pol whispered, "Do not worry about later. Worry about now."

He unleashed a little more passion, still reigning in the majority of it in. His embraces again became more fiery. He was moaning into her throat at the meeting of their mouths. His movements were faster, more wanton.

She could tell he was holding back, still. She kissed at his neck. "Let go of your control."

He leaned over her, pushing her to ground. He barely noticed the aching pain in his shoulder, as he propped himself up over her. His mouth feverishly ravished hers. But, again, he was holding some of himself back, still wondering why this felt so strange.

She pushed his shirt off of him and said, "Let go of your control."

Thrice seemed to be all she needed to ask. As if a class four hurricane had come to shore, Archer's emotions raged against hers. A torrent of feelings blew suddenly and unabashedly. His desire overcame her mental shields as his hands began to tear at her clothing. He was attentive, but desperate in his passion. 

She thought briefly, 'What have I done?' 

His lust whipped at her, flailing her mental and emotional control until she too became reckless with desire. 

************************************************************************

Archer woke up wincing at the pain in his shoulder. He looked up and noticed his arm was curled around T'Pol's midsection. He grinned sheepishly and snuggled into her. Although his shoulder was bothering him, he felt completely and absolutely sated. In fact, he noticed he couldn't stop grinning with satisfaction and something sillier – love. He peeked at his lover sleeping peacefully and decided to risk getting up to bring her something for breakfast. 

As he moved his arm, T'Pol stirred.

He pressed his lips lovingly to her ear. "Good morning."

She slowly opened her eyes and raised a cautious eyebrow at him. "Hello."

"I was just about to get breakfast. Can I get you tea and some fruit?" he asked.

She lay back on the bed and pulled the covers up to her neck. "I am due on the Bridge in an hour …."

Jon smiled and kissed her temple. "I took the liberty of contacting Lt. Reed last night while you were in the bathroom. I asked him to call Ensign Mendoza to cover your shift."

"Why did you do that without consulting me?" she asked, sharply.

Archer backed off a little. "I was trying to be considerate. Are you upset?"

She squashed the emotions rising up in her. "I merely wish to be consulted regarding my work."

He brushed some hair away from her face. "I'm sorry. I won't do that again." He was trying to read her, but found it difficult to get a handle on what she was feeling.

She asked, "I take it your ailment has … dissipated?"

"Yes. But, I still think I'm looking at the most beautiful woman I know."

Unamused, she stared up at the ceiling. "I wish to take a shower."

"Want me to get your robe?"

"That is not necessary."

"There something wrong, T'Pol?" he asked.

"No."

The vibes he was reading were more like –- get the hell out. "Well, you probably want some privacy."

She agreed, "I would."

"Can I meet you for lunch or dinner today?"

"I apologize. I am uncertain I will be able to attend either."

"Maybe tomorrow?" he asked.

"Perhaps. If my schedule permits."

With embarrassment, he cleared his throat. He scooted to the edge of the bed and began gathering his clothes, putting them on.

After he was completely dressed he walked over to her bathroom and picked up her robe, laying it on the bed for her. He sat near the edge next to her. "I thought last night was wonderful, T'Pol."

Archer looked at her waiting for some kind of agreement or disagreement. She remained quiet, looking at him briefly. 

He stroked her cheek. "Do you feel okay?"

"Yes," she replied.

He was completely flummoxed on what to do. He felt they had a lot to talk about, and he personally needed to hold her and tell her how much she meant to him, but it seemed she'd rather be alone. He began turning over in his mind wondering if he'd hurt her or done something to anger her. He realized his passion may have been out of control, but he did everything he knew to please her. 

He formed two fingers and held them out for her. She looked at him with confusion and touched his fingers for a few seconds. 

He said, "Let me know if you need anything."

"I will," she commented.

He nodded and kissed her lips gently. He gave an awkward smirk and headed out the door. As he left he'd wondered what the hell happened.

T'Pol was underneath the bed sheets, clenching them to her. After he left, she pushed her hair from her face and put her robe on. She shakily walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower. As the hot water began to steam up the room, she stepped in and put her head underneath the nozzle, welcoming the feeling of being clean.

She thought about the night before. She had not expected that. She wasn't sure what she'd anticipated, but it certainly wasn't that. Every centimeter of her body was kissed and touched, not necessarily something that would meet Vulcan acceptance. She'd cried out his name, more than once; Vulcans never cry out. The frenzy of their passion was frightening, looking back on it. He watched her every motion, listened to every noise she made so intently that it was as if he could read her thoughts. And, that is possibly what scared her the most. 

He choreographed every movement perfectly.

Her emotional control was ripped away by this man. And, she'd enjoyed it. So much, that rather than satisfy the requirements of his ailment, they were joined together almost all night, much more than he needed. He'd uttered tokens of love and desire repeatedly, eagerly. Gentle and forceful, he'd managed to breakdown her will. No. She reveled in his presence, his odor, his touch and smile. 

She furrowed her brows in contemplation. 

********************************************************************

Archer began rebuking himself as he walked toward his room. He should've known she was doing this as a favor; he should've stopped himself. He was drunk on her, unable to get enough. He wondered if she would be okay.

With human women, he could tell when they wanted to talk about something, no matter how much they insisted everything was okay. With T'Pol, he got the feeling he was the last person she wanted to talk to, but felt there was something on her mind. 

Guilt also began knocking at his door. He entered his quarters wondering how this would affect their working relationship. Would he be able to ask her to scan something, without remembering her writhing underneath him, whispering his name?

He put his hand to his forehead and considered it. He wanted to talk with her again soon, but knew she needed a little space. He crawled underneath his covers, having gotten only a few hours of sleep, and went to bed.

[top]

Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.   
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.   
Reviews provided by Monica. 


	6. Best First Contact Ever 6

Site and resources: the 602 Club Home | About the 602club.com | Contact Me | Directions to Other Bars (Links)   
Stories: Neat (G - PG13) | With a Twist (R)   
Episodes: Reviews | Character Bios   


Best First Contact Ever - Chapter Six 

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine 

Archer woke up from his nap to a groggy mind. Then it hit him with sparkling clarity – he and his first officer had sex. He put his hands behind his head and thought, 'Not just any kind – the mind-blowing variety.' He'd seen her act about as unVulcan as he possibly could. 

She had called out his name, arched into his caresses and tangled her hands in his hair. Just thinking about the act … well, several of them … made his stomach flutter. 

He sat up, wondering what would happen now. She'd encouraged him to let his control go. He instinctively knew it was too much, but hearing her ask several times, seductively, was more than he could take.

Why had she ever agreed to this favor? She hated to see him suffer – not exactly a ringing endorsement she wanted him, more like she pitied him. Yup, she didn't want to see him suffer. That had to be it.

'I'm over analyzing it,' he thought. 'It is what it is – a one-time never to be repeated fling because I needed her,' he pondered heading into the bathroom. He stripped down and headed into the warm shower, thinking about her cool lips on his skin. He gave a smirk into the nozzle's spray and shook his head. "No, you don't," said Archer aloud to himself. "You're not going down that path." 

He lathered up trying to imagine just about anything else – how soon they'd reach the anomaly. He thought about what they'd do if they found the munitions factory. Would his quest to find the Xindi weapon and destroy it be at an end?

He rinsed off and stepped out of the shower, dripping onto the tiled floor. He ran the towel over his head, his arms and legs, cringing slightly at the muffled pain in his shoulder. A question tunneled through his mind – 'If it was a favor, why did she let me do it again?' He chided himself, 'The first time I was affected by the drug. Why didn't I quit?'

He blew out a frustrated breath and decided to head to lunch and spend the rest of the day in the Command Center. Maybe later he'd stop by T'Pol's quarters and talk … if she let him. He tapped his feet against the tiled floor and walked onto the carpet. He rummaged through his closet and pulled out a uniform, stepping into it. 

He looked down at Porthos, who lazily opened his eyes, staring up from his doggie bed. Archer gave a lopsided smile to the dog and said, "Don't wait up, boy."

***********************************************

T'Pol decided meditation was definitely in order, now that she had bathed. She needed to mentally cleanse her mind. She carefully moved to her meditation table and lit the candles. The soft glow of the candlelight illuminated her room. The shadows danced on the walls and calmed her mind. 

She knelt down and fixed herself, cross-legged, onto the floor. Her hand turned, palms up and she took several slow, deep breaths. Her hearts slowed and her mind began to clear. 

She tried not to sort out her feelings, but completely tamp them down, and push them aside. She shoved aside images of being wrapped in Jonathan's arms. She shirked remembrances of his lips tracing the point of her ear, his breath tickling her earlobe. She stuffed away the feeling of his warm mouth plunging into hers. All of these thoughts and more were neatly forced into the back of her mind.

The one thought she did meditate about was: how she had left things with him. When she awoke and saw him lying next to her, his marvelous green eyes and smile, she found it difficult to bury her emotions. She could not address any of her own questions, let alone his. Besides, discussing their emotions would have been a mistake. She knew she would say things she would regret, and gathered he might do the same.

If she allowed herself to speak to him, their lips would've mingled again. The tenuous control she had could not risk being disturbed with pillow talk or caring embraces. She fell deeper into her trance, closing her eyes. Her breath nearly stilled as she fell into herself.

Nearly seven hours later she opened her eyes. She was renewed and rejuvenated. She picked up around her quarters and decided it was probably time to discuss things with Captain Archer. She raised her eyebrow and decided she knew exactly where he would be, even on his day off. 

She glided down the hallway, stepped in and out of the turbolift, and made her way to the Command Center, where Archer stood watching the screen pensively. A soft green glow lit the left half of his face.

He heard the door slide open and closed and gave a surprised jolt and smile, which then faded into a straight line. "You have the day off," he mentioned, staring back at the screen.

"As do you," she reminded him. 

He saw something teasing in her manner and let loose a grin. "What brings you around here?"

"I believe you asked me to dinner. Have you eaten?"

Astonishment slapped itself on Archer's face. "Uh, no. I'd love to have dinner with you." He decided he sounded just a little too eager and tried to dial it back.

She raised an eyebrow and headed out the door. Jon couldn't help himself. "What changed your mind?"

"I believe we have a few things to discuss," she replied.

Archer said sarcastically, "Just a few."

They walked into the Mess Hall and made their way into the Captain's Mess. "I'll tell Chef we're here," he said getting up to the comm and ordering.

He sat down with some trepidation and said, "Well, I just wanted to tell you that …."

She interrupted, "Captain, I do not believe we should repeat our encounter, nor enter into a more permanent relationship. It would be unprofessional, possibly harmful for crew morale and I believe, is currently against Starfleet regulations."

He sat back in his chair and nodded. "I agree." After a brief moment of silence he added, "Well that was fast. Is that all you wanted to discuss?"

T'Pol raised her eyebrow. "I … forgive me … I did not believe you would agree."

He looked into her olive green eyes. "Did I disappoint you?"

"Of course not," she mentioned. "You seemed … eager this morning …."

Nailed. "Well, I'm not a love and leave 'em kinda guy." He could see the puzzlement creeping onto her face and said, "What I meant is … it's human behavior to well … show affection and I guess … appreciation." He continued to stammer, "It's impolite to rush off." Oh, who was he kidding? She was right. He wanted to stay with her, eat in bed, talk and snuggle into her.

"I had not read that," she commented.

"I guess they don't cover some things in a database, do they?" 

"It appears not," she remarked.

"Is everything okay with you? You seemed pretty upset this morning …."

"Unsettled," she corrected him. "I apologize, then, for being impolite. I needed to collect my thoughts and meditate."

"Well, I appreciate you doing me this favor …," Archer began. 

One of the crewmen brought him dinner, sliding pasta in front of Archer and a salad toward the sub-commander.

"Anything else, sir?" asked the crewman.

Archer looked over at T'Pol who stabbed a piece of lettuce and said, "No. Thanks."

The crewman exited as Jon began again. "I appreciate you helping me out."

"You would do the same for me. I read in the database that humans sometimes have sex with a partner, never to repeat the affair. Vulcans also have this custom," she lied. Only during Pon Farr would most Vulcans agree to this arrangement. 

Time to change the subject. He smirked, "Well … how's your salad?"

"Nutritious. I see you are having something without meat," she commented.

"Change of pace," he replied. He sipped a glass of wine and said, "I was looking at Enterprise's current trajectory. Looks like no anomalies are in our flight path. I also checked in with Mr. Reed about long-range scans. It doesn't look like any Xindi are in the area."

"That concerns you?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said. "After everything that's happened, I was expecting the worst."

"I understand," she replied.

"I thought I should let you know, I'll be back at work tomorrow," he said.

"I thought the doctor had instructed you …." 

"I feel fine. Besides, I was already at work today," he said, twirling his pasta around in his fork.

"Yes, I had anticipated you would be in the Command Center. You seem to spend many of your off hours there," she commented.

"Earth is really counting on me, T'Pol. I don't want to let my people down."

"You rarely participate in activities like you used to. I typically do not see you at the gym, or movie night."

He went to the gym usually late at night. He asked, "You go to movie night?"

"Occasionally I attend with Commander Tucker."

A brooding frown wiggled onto his face. "Right. Well, I've been busy."

"I did not intend to offend you," she said.

He shrugged, "That's okay." He'd forgotten how different he felt since being on Benovula. But now he felt his old habits coming back in droves.

At that moment, Tucker walked in. He grinned at the two. "Hey, fancy seeing you two here."

Archer frowned more and said, "Hey, Trip."

Tucker brought in his own food, thinking it was too late to get anything new from Chef. He put down a PADD and admitted, "Sorry, Captain, thought I'd get a little reading in. The Mess Hall's filled with MACOs. And they're a damned noisy bunch."

Archer's mood perked up a little. "It's alright. You can use the Captain's Mess anytime you want."

Tucker grinned and looked over at T'Pol, and extended his smile. "How'd things go last night?

Archer began choking, as T'Pol calmly replied, "Well."

Trip leaned in, ignoring the captain's choking fit, and said, "You tell the captain?"

T'Pol eyed the engineer and then the captain. "Tell him what?"

"About your hot …."

T'Pol interrupted, "I was merely … deceiving you. I wanted to catch up on my … meditation."

"Hear that, Jon, she's starting to joke around. She told me last night she had a hot date," he said, grinning wildly.

Archer's heart beat loudly in his chest. "That right?" he asked innocently.

T'Pol corrected, "I did not say that. Commander Tucker asked to move up his neuropressure session. I indicated I could not. He jumped to that conclusion."

Tucker nodded. "Alright, I'll stop picking on you. So, we on for tonight?"

T'Pol mumbled, "I had forgotten I agreed to see a movie with you."

"Starts at 2000 hours."

She replied, "That is only an hour from now."

"Well, I got them to play it especially for you. Remember that one I'd been telling you about – _Man Who Fell to Earth_." She raised her eyebrow. He continued, reaching for a carrot on her plate. "Well, it's that one. Besides, it'll give us something to talk about during neuropressure, instead of work."

For some unknown reason, she inadvertently looked at Archer, who seemed to be studying his plate with great intensity. He noticed her gaze and looked up, "Sounds like you guys are going to have a lot of fun."

Trip said grimly, "About as much fun as you can have these days."

T'Pol spoke up, "Captain, you can join us for …."

"Neuropressure?" he kidded with just a tinge of venom. "I don't think so."

Tucker sat back in his seat, remembering when Archer had broken up their session. "So, Captain, you seem to be feeling pretty normal."

Archer nodded, "About as back to normal as I can be." He took a sip of wine and said, "Sorry I've been kind of an ass lately. I'm sure my behavior has been … tough to take."

Trip wasn't sure which behavior. Jon had been a rollercoaster of emotion ever since they entered the Expanse. He knew the guy was driven, but he didn't think he would be this bad. Although he was angry Jon had lost his focus over T'Pol, he was actually happy in a way to see the guy lighten up. "Well, I think T'Pol was a pretty good sport to put up with the likes of you," he joked.

Archer looked at his engineer with something akin to a steamy anger. He knew Trip was joking and was unaware of the situation, but Jon felt the same jealous spark that had been there since they entered the Expanse. "I guess so," he replied. Archer folded his napkin and put it on the table. "I'll leave you to your evening. Have a nice time."

Trip sure felt like he'd managed to piss Jon off. He narrowed his eyes and looked over at T'Pol. 

She stared at the door after the captain left. "It appears his sour mood has returned."

Trip agreed, "No kidding." He scratched his head and said, "I don't get him."

"I am not certain I do either." She thought, 'Perhaps the elixir he drank made him softer, like the man she used to know.'

Trip saw T'Pol had almost finished her meal. "You wanna stick around, or have me pick you up?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I will sit with you for a while."

Trip smiled, "Good, I can give you some of the background to the movie."

************************************************************************

Archer walked back to the Command Center. He wasn't sure what he was doing there, but felt comfortable in the surrounding. He felt like a captain, a leader. He viewed the data on the screen again for the umpteenth time and looked at the star chart. 

"Phlox to Captain Archer."

Archer walked over to the comm, "Archer here."

Phlox's voice rang out, "Could I see you in Sickbay?"

"Be there in a few minutes," noted Archer. "Archer out."

Archer swaggered down to Sickbay, passing movie goers on their way to watch the science fiction movie Trip talked about at dinner. His eyes scanned the room as he entered the medical facility. Phlox appeared in a white lab coat, which he sometimes wore. "Ah, Captain!"

Archer smiled, "Hey, Doc."

Phlox scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Interesting. Captain, you appear to be feeling better. Did the symptoms disappear?"

Archer froze. He said softly, "Councilwoman Larana recommended a remedy to T'Pol, which she decided to try."

Dr. Phlox raised both eyebrows. "What was the treatment? Why wasn't I informed?"

Archer stammered, "We … uhm … you know."

Phlox looked at him with bewilderment. "No."

The captain lowered his voice, "We …."

"Had sex?" asked the doctor gleefully.

Archer rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Yes." He looked a little more irritated and added, "This is confidential. I don't want the crew to know."

"This is fascinating!" he said with joy. "I've never heard of a Vulcan and a human mating! Can I ask you a few questions? I know Denobulan doctors would find this topic very interesting."

"No," said Archer. 

Dr. Phlox's face fell. It figured the first time he heard about this kind of amazing sexual pairing, he would be denied further study. Humans! They were so embarrassed about natural bodily functions. If this had been a Denobulan ship, undoubtedly several pairings would have already occurred, with offspring being born. He tapped his chin wondering if possibly later he could discuss it. "So, you had sex … and your symptoms were cured?"

"Yes." Archer winced at the physician's bluntness.

"Well, I was going to tell you that I had found a remedy … possibly not as enjoyable though as the technique you used," stated Phlox.

He winced again. "Sorry for not telling you. Slipped my mind."

Phlox continued to beam. "Captain, do you want to continue that conversation we had when your quadruped was ill? About your feelings toward the sub-commander?"

Archer shook his head. "Not really. T'Pol and I have decided to continue our _professional _relationship."

Phlox's face tunneled a frown of disappointment. "Hmmph."

"Well, if that's it," said Archer turning to head out the door.

"Do you want my advice?" asked Phlox.

Archer's eyes remained on the door. "All right."

"You were happier than I've seen you in a while. Well, except for your depression when she was gone. I think there's more to your feelings."

Archer shrugged, "That doesn't sound like advice."

Dr. Phlox squirmed; "Well, no. But …."

"Thanks, Doc. Good night," said Archer walking out the door. 

Phlox looked at the time, glad he could make the science fiction movie. He'd heard Commander Tucker raving about it for days.

************************************************************************************************************ 

Archer walked onto the bridge the next morning with a sense of purpose. He strode toward his command chair, carrying a PADD at his side. He glanced over at T'Pol's station and noticed her head was buried in the scanner. He sipped his coffee, sat in his chair and stared at the screen ahead. 

"Status?" he asked.

"We are still approximately one day away from reaching the sphere. Your calculations were correct, Captain. Our course will prevent us from encountering any anomalies."

"Good." He looked over his PADD and tapped it a few times.

Hoshi looked over, "Captain, I thought you were going to be in your quarters for the next few days."

"Felt a little cooped up. Besides, none of us really have the luxury of having a few days off after what happened. Do we, Ensign?"

She furrowed her brow. "I guess not."

He nodded. After spending an hour in his chair, looking at the PADD, he got up. "Sub-commander, I'll be in the Ready Room. You have the Bridge."

She asked instead, "May I speak with you for a moment?"

He nodded and they walked over to the metal portal. He followed her in and plopped himself into the chair behind his desk. "What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to discuss the duty roster with you. I take it you have reviewed it?"

"Yes," he answered.

'Of course you have,' she thought. "There is a crewmen who refuses to rest. He has been moody and somewhat sullen. He momentarily seemed happier, but was …."

"T'Pol, I know you're referring to me."

"I am concerned for you, Captain," she commented.

Was that before or after her neuropressure session with Trip last night? "Well, you don't need to be."

"May I sit?" she asked.

He straightened up. "By all means."

"Did something happen at dinner last night to affect your mood?" she asked.

"No," he lied.

"Is it perhaps what happened between us? I understood that our conversation had gone well."

"No, it has nothing to do with us," he lied. "I'm just busy."

"Recently, although affected by what Councilwoman Larana gave you, you seemed more like yourself."

"I don't understand," he said.

"When we entered the Expanse, you became unsettled and moody. I had not realized how much I became accustomed to the old you." She clarified, "The you before we entered the Expanse."

He gave a small smile and let his eyes take in her long, dark lashes hovering over her eyes. 

"I think some time away from work would help you," she continued.

He leaned forward. "What do you suggest?"

"I believe movie night tonight is at 1800. It appears to be about a medical doctor. I hear it is quite good. Are you interested?"

His eyes twinkled, but he furrowed his brow. "I thought the movie was Dr. Zhivago?"

"That is the physician I was referring to."

Was she asking him out on a date? "Uhm, will Dr. Phlox or anyone join us?" Anyone? Why couldn't he say Trip's name?

"Would you like them to?" she asked.

He gave a lopsided smile. "Not really."

She stood up.

He had to ask, "Seeing a late movie like that … will it give you enough time to provide neuropressure to Commander Tucker?"

She raised her eyebrow. "I had not considered that. He frequently comes late at night. I do not believe it should be a problem."

Disappointment rang in his voice, "Oh."

"I will come by your quarters at 1700?" she asked.

He got up and walked her to the door. "Okay. I look forward to seeing you."

She raised both eyebrows and walked out.

Archer shook his head and sat at his desk. "Huh."

***********************************************

Archer found himself shaving in front of the mirror. He didn't think she'd try to kiss him, or touch his face, but …. 'No,' he told himself. 'We're friends.'

His door chimed right on time. He opened it and let a wide grin lasso his face. "Hey, are you ready?"

"Of course," she replied.

"Come on in," he said. "Let me get a jacket." He walked over to his closet and picked something out as she looked on. He walked over to her and opened his mouth as the ship pitched slightly, placing T'Pol in his arms. He held her there for a second, as the ship pitched again.

Archer walked over to the comm. "Archer to the Bridge. Report."

"Sir," said Reed. "We've skimmed the edge of an anomaly."

Hoshi cut in, "All decks report everything is normal."

Archer shrugged. "All right. Would you continue to use long-range and short-range scanners to see if there are any other anomalies we might … skim?"

Reed agreed, "Aye, Captain."

"Thanks, Malcolm. Archer out."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "I did not detect any anomalies earlier. Fascinating."

"Can anomalies move or change course?" asked Archer.

"It would not have thought so," said T'Pol. "Unless, someone is triangulating it?"

Archer asked, "Councilwoman Larana or one of the Benovulans have something to do with this?"

"Unknown. The Xindi could have realized their scout ship was destroyed and tried to affect the anomalies to skim the ship."

"I think I should head back to the Command Center," indicated Archer.

T'Pol was disappointed for many reasons, but agreed with him. "Perhaps, I can assist you."

Archer smiled. "You don't want to go ahead and watch the movie?"

"I would think you would need my assistance," she commented. "Besides, we may have another opportunity to see Dr. Zhivago."

Archer's mouth curled up. She was completely amazing. Despite everything that had happened between them, she was interested in picking up their friendship. He wanted so desperately to hold her, stroke her cheek, touch her hair. He wanted to plant a kiss at her temple and whisper her name. It had nothing to do with the affects of the drug. That problem had long passed, but he was identifying another problem … he was simply and utterly in love with this woman. He had been for some time. He was jealous of her time spent with Commander Tucker. He was hurt and angry at the sparks he perceived between them. And, he was sullen and self-pitying that all his time was spent finding the Xindi, alone.

T'Pol thought Archer had gone speechless far too long. "Captain, are you alright?"

He gave a silly smile. "Yeah, I think so." He paused and caught his breath. "Let's go."

He walked in his civilian clothes down the hall, followed by T'Pol. They entered the Command Center and Archer sat down at a console, looking over the information. T'Pol leaned over him, staring at the same information. "Captain, it appears that the triangulation is happening … there," she said pointing to a distance also one day away.

Archer pressed the comm. "Archer to the Bridge." 

"Reed here."

"Reed, can you scan at mark 1.2.7.9.7?" asked Archer.

"Yes, one moment." Archer heard the footsteps across the metal plating. "Yes, sir. It appears there's nothing."

"T'Pol and I are picking up a reading at those exact coordinates. Something that might be affecting the anomalies of the sphere," said Archer.

Reed replied, "I'm not registering anything."

Archer raised his eyebrows as T'Pol leaned in closer to speak into the comm. "Begin a sweep of the area and get back to me when you see anything … unusual."

"Unusual?"

"That is correct," she answered.

"Aye, ma'am. Reed out."

T'Pol turned back to Archer. "Odd," she said, still leaning in.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I currently have no hypothesis." She continued leaning almost into him without realizing it, deep in thought. She had heard of some scientific work being done on spatial matter being rendered virtually invisible. Could this be it?

Archer coughed politely. When T'Pol didn't respond he said, "Uhm, I think I need a little room."

"My apologies," she said. 

"So, what do we do now?"

"I suggest waiting to see what is whoever is affecting the anomaly next move and remain on course."

"Agreed," he said. "We're not even sure it _is _someone. In the meantime, maybe there's something in the Xindi database that explains this phenomenon." He began pulling up files, becoming lost in his work. 

"I will take half of the information, while you take half," she explained. 

"Works for me. I'll start looking alphabetically – A through M." He pulled up the filed and mumbled, "Good thing Hoshi was able to alphabetize everything in English."

"Captain," she said settling into a chair on the other side of the room, beginning to view the screen in front of her.

"Mmmm, hmmm," he said thoughtfully.

"I would like to make another suggestion to you, to ease your tension and aid your sleep," she said.

"What's that," he answered offhandedly.

"I would like to begin neuropressure with you. I believe you would greatly benefit from it."

Archer sighed, staring at the screen. Last time they were together he'd made a complete fool of himself. He didn't want to remind her he's react in much the same way. He turned his head and said, "I don't need any. I think you should save it for the resident insomniac."

"You believe the techniques to be unhelpful?" she asked.

"I didn't say that," he said, turning back toward the screen. "I … I just don't think it would help me any."

"I believed your mind to be more open to various Vulcan traditions. Am I incorrect?" she asked.

"It has nothing to do with Vulcans or Vulcan traditions. I respect you, your people and your traditions. I just don't think it would be a good idea."

"Why?" she asked.

"Will you drop it?" he said, becoming frustrated.

"If you wish," she replied emotionlessly, keeping a level-eye on the screens.

After a few moments passed, Archer huffed, "Look, I'm sorry." He turned around in his chair. "I'm not sure it would be good for our professional relationship."

"Very well," she replied flatly.

"I'm sorry for raising my voice," he said, turning his head back at the screen. "I know you meant well."

About an hour of quiet passed. Archer mumbled, "Reminds me of the academy."

"How does this remind you of that experience?"

"All nighters."

"Excuse me?"

He chuckled, "All nighters. Students would stay up and cram for tests. My roommate and I would stay up all night studying for tests."

"Studying all night, rather than over a long period of time, is not a very effective way to learn," she remarked.

"I guess you've never crammed?" he mentioned. "I mean … studied all night, rather than over a long period of time."

"On the contrary," she said. "During the Kohlinar, I studied ancient texts all night, in one sitting."

Archer let a wide smile light up his face. "Oh really? I would've thought you'd be the perfect student."

"I was usually an attentive student. However, I was not for the texts of the Kohlinar. I found the discussions … uninteresting."

"What did you do instead?" asked Archer.

"Write notes to a young man in my class. Very foolish."

Archer chuckled harder. "You were passing love notes, T'Pol?"

"They did not profess love. Vulcans are incapable of … love."

Archer's smile dwindled. "Right."

"It was … sincere affection," she corrected.

Archer's twinkle came back and he said, "Yes, that certainly makes a whole lot of difference."

The two began discussing things as they were looking for more information. After three hours together without a break, Archer stood up and stretched, mindful of his shoulder. "I haven't found anything yet, have you?" he asked.

T'Pol looked up, watching Archer's shirt raise, showing off his sculpted, hairy stomach as he continued to stretch.

He saw her looking at his belly and sheepishly tugged his shirt down. "I need a little break. How about you?"

She agreed, "I could use some tea."

"Would you like me to get it for you? Need something to eat?" he asked.

She raised her eyebrow. "It would be preferable if you brought it back. Thank you."

He smirked, "Don't mention it."

Archer turned on his heel and walked out. T'Pol turned back to the screen and continued looking at the information. She heard the door slide open and said, "You were faster than anticipated."

"Really?" said Trip.

She swiveled her seat and raised her eyebrow. "I apologize, I believed you to be the captain."

"Ah," he said. "I went by your quarters for our session, but …."

T'Pol's face registered regret. "I apologize, Commander. I did not realize the time." She got up as Archer walked back, humming to himself. He walked in, not looking, and said, "I gotcha the chamomile, since I …."

Archer stopped in his tracks. "Hey, Trip."

"I knew you'd be in the Command Center, but had no idea T'Pol would be."

Archer realized Trip didn't call her sub-commander.

T'Pol stood up and gathered the mug from Archer's hands. "I had forgotten about the treatment for Commander Tucker. Can you continue without me?" she asked.

"I think I can manage," he retorted. 

"I left off with the 'R'. Perhaps after I am finished, I will see if you are still here. Although, I hope you, instead, are resting."

He chuckled, "We'll see." He stared into her eyes, "Goodnight, T'Pol."

Tucker thought he saw something in Jon's eyes that indicated there was something going on between the two of them. Trip said, "I can sleep just fine tonight."

T'Pol shook her head. "On the contrary. I heard from Mister Rostov that you had difficulty with the upgrades the other day when I canceled our session."

Tucker shrugged. "I'm just sayin', looks like you two are busy."

She rebutted, "Not that busy."

She walked out and said, "Good night, Captain."

Trip looked almost apologetic and nodded, "Sorry, sir."

[top]

Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.   
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.   
Reviews provided by Monica. 


	7. Best First Contact Ever 7

Site and resources: the 602 Club Home | About the 602club.com | Contact Me | Directions to Other Bars (Links)   
Stories: Neat (G - PG13) | With a Twist (R)   
Episodes: Reviews | Character Bios   


Best First Contact Ever - Chapter Seven 

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine 

T'Pol and Tucker walked back to her quarters. She remained silent the entire time, after they got to her cabin, Trip said, "Penny for your thoughts."

T'Pol walked in and turned on the lights. "A penny?"

Tucker smiled, "Old United States currency."

Confusion bore onto her face.

"I meant – what are you thinking about?" asked Trip, as he entered her quarters, taking off his shoes and socks.

She raised an eyebrow. "I am concerned Captain Archer will remain in the Command Center until he finds his answer. I am certain it will take some time, _if _he locates the answer."

"What's he looking for?" asked Trip, wiggling out of his shirt.

She shook her head. "The answer to a currently unsolvable riddle." She began lighting various candles.

Tucker sat on her bed and said. "Is there something going on between you two?"

She walked over to dim the lights. "What gives you that impression?"

Trip shrugged. "Call it an instinct."

"Lie on your stomach, Commander," she replied, rubbing her hands together to warm them.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Neuropressure demands concentration from the one giving and receiving. Do you not remember that from our first session?" she asked, evasively.

He snorted a little and clamped his mouth.

She placed her fingers along the young man's back and began to press lightly, then harder.

"Well, I'm just saying I could tell there was something in Jon's eyes," mumbled Trip.

T'Pol's hand slipped as Trip cried out in pain.

"My apologies," she replied. "Are you alright?"

Trip rubbed his lower back and grunted, "Yeah. Damn. Sometimes I forget how strong you are. Felt like you gave me a kidney punch."

"Neuropressure can be dangerous. I asked you to remain quiet. If I lose my concentration for a moment, the consequences could be more severe. You are lucky we had only initiated the first stages. If I had pressed harder, I could have damaged your kidney."

Trip sat up and said, "Do you want to talk about why you just gave me a kidney punch?"

T'Pol raised her eyebrow. "No."

Trip dangled his feet over the bed, kicking them lightly. "I've seen Jon go out with about two women in the almost ten years I've known him."

"Commander, I indicated I did not wish to pursue this conversation."

"He's kinda private. Hell, I'd tell him who I thought was pretty, who I was dating and what we did. But, he never really said anything about himself. It wasn't 'til I ran into him and Rebecca in the park, that I knew he was dating someone. Turns out he'd been seeing her for several years."

"How long?" she asked.

Trip shrugged. "That's just the thing. He introduced us, but that was about it. He's never mentioned anything about her, or their relationship."

"Is that unusual for humans? Vulcans rarely talk about these matters," she replied.

"I think it's unusual," commented Trip. "The guy's so damned focused. I bet he thinks he can't be the captain, or fight the Xindi if he has anything else on his mind." Trip patted the bed.

T'Pol skeptically sat down. 

"Rumors about him in the engineering section back in San Francisco were that he was the most anal-retentive guy in Starfleet. He was wound up so tight, some of the folks said he could …" he looked up and noticed T'Pol waiting for him to finish the sentence, not understanding it would be crude. "Well, they just thought he was focused and driven."

"Why are you telling me this information?" asked T'Pol.

"Thought you might like to know," suggested Trip.

T'Pol furrowed her eyebrows and began warily, "I am unsure how I feel about him."

Trip smiled. He knew it had taken a lot for her to admit it. "If you want to know what I think, I think he's been crazy about you for a while. But, lately it seems it's a little more on the surface."

"I have driven him insane?" she asked.

Trip chuckled, "No, I meant he's liked you for a while."

"I hope he likes me. We are friends," commented T'Pol. Humans were very difficult to understand sometimes.

"I mean _likes_ you, as in more than a friend."

"I see. How are you certain?" she asked. Archer's confession to her in Sickbay came to mind. She sensed it was the truth, but managed to put that thought in the back of her mind, not be to re-examined.

"It's more a feeling." He could see the Vulcan was thoroughly bewildered and responded, "I know the way he used to look at you when you first came aboard. I know the way he looked at you when we were on P'Jem. I know that since then, that look is gone and replaced by the way I saw him looking at Rebecca."

She raised her eyebrow. "You can judge this all by watching his eyes?"

Trip smiled. She was getting humans, but sometimes missed a key ingredient to them. "I think humans read body language – facial expressions, arm placement and what not to gather how someone thinks and feels about us or someone else. It's a hold over from our more primitive selves, before we had language."

"And by this body language, you believe that the captain has feelings for me?" she asked.

Trip nodded. "I'd bet my power relays on it."

She raised her eyebrow. She debated whether to tell him about the remedy to cure the captain from the Benovulan herb. She would never normally discuss it, but wondered if Mister Tucker might have some insights. She hovered near him, looking down at the floor.

"You gonna tell me what's on your mind _now_?"

She decided against it. "No. I am not sure I am prepared to discuss this further. I do believe we should continue your treatment, however." T'Pol stood up and began to warm her hands again.

Trip said, while she was preparing. "I know you meditate beforehand most of the time. My emotions aren't bothering you?"

He was a considerate young man. "No. I can assist you. However, in light of our discussion, it may help if you clear your mind of these thoughts."

Trip smiled. "Alright."

********************************************************************* 

Archer continued sitting, looking at the screen. He turned away for a moment to massage his eyes. He mumbled with frustration, "This isn't helping any."

He'd looked though the entire database, but didn't see anything on triangulation of anomalies or spheres in general.

He looked up at the clock: 2342. He rolled his neck from side to side and continued to stare at the screen. He heard the door slide open behind him. He swiveled his chair to see T'Pol.

"Did you find anything?" she asked.

"No," he replied. "Not yet. But, it's got to be there." He turned back toward the screen.

"It is possible it is not there," she suggested. 

'I guess I'll have to go through it again,' he said to himself. 

T'Pol watched him focus back on the task at hand and become lost to the fact that there was someone else in the room. She silently walked behind him and continued to watch as he struggled to get through more of the data.

She carefully placed her hands on his back as he jumped slightly under her movement. She leaned in, "I doubt you will find the data tonight."

He commented, "You never know."

She watched the screen, as she kept her hands on his back. She whispered, "Take a deep breath."

"Listen, I don't have time for …."

"Just do so," she insisted.

He put his hands in his lap and breathed deeply. As he did, T'Pol placed two fingers on each side of his upper back and pressed. Archer felt almost immediately like tension was draining away. That felt much better than he wanted it to feel. 

He looked up at her. "Neuropressure?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Aren't your hands tired?" he asked, trying to shake the need to sleep and his arousal.

He was right, they were weary and somewhat sore. She didn't answer and he suggested, "Why don't you sit down?" He stood up and offered her the chair. She gave a questioning look, but sat down.

"I did find some data that might be useful. We know that Benovulans served as slaves on Xindi for many years, but … the Benovulans apparently now have Xindi humanoid DNA," he said. 

She raised her eyebrow at the information. "Why were we unable to find this sooner?"

"I don't think we were looking for it. I wonder what bearing it has on an alliance. They must know they are currently descendants of the Xindi."

"There is much we do not understand about the people in the Expanse: their political structure, values, alliances …."

Archer gave silent agreement. "If Dralan is working with the Xindi, and knows we're here – that could be a problem."

"Agreed," she said. She rubbed at her hands for a moment, noting they ached slightly.

He leaned on the console next to her and said, "Give me your arm."

Her eyebrows furrowed, but he smiled, coaxing, "Come on, I won't hurt you."

She offered it to him and he began to knead her hand and arm gently, trying to ease the tension in her hands. "We're going to press on."

She found the experience to be somewhat like neuropressure. "But, you know they could be leading us into a trap," she replied. Her hands began to loosen, though she felt slightly uncomfortable. His hands worked at her muscles, and she felt her hand go limp in his care. 

"I don't think we have much of a choice," he replied. He focused on her arm, but continued to speak. "I was thinking if I take a shuttle down to the sphere, rather than have Enterprise in orbit, we might have the element of surprise."

"They could have been monitoring the ship since our departure," she said. "It seems foolhardy."

"I'm not convinced they have been monitoring us. Councilwoman Larana indicated we were friends of her people. I …."

"You trust her?" she asked. "After all she has done?"

Archer shrugged putting her hand into her lap and motioning for her other arm. She tentatively gave it to him. He held her forearm in his hands and breathed deeply. He gently maneuvered her flesh in his strong hands. Her arms felt soft, but strong. She raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't know," he said. "My gut tells me, for some reason, we can trust her."

"What about the possible triangulation we discovered?" she asked.

"You said yourself you weren't sure," Archer offered. He continued rubbing her hands, noticing how delicate they were. Her fingers were long and thin.

"Do you not think you should have more than your … gut … to rely on?" she asked.

"Maybe," he said. He looked down at her fingers and noticed something akin to a freckle. He smiled at it, thinking he wished he could put her fingers to his mouth and nibble on them.

"Jonathan, what are you doing?" she asked. She knew to a large extent what he was thinking.

"I'm trying to find out how to approach this problem."

Her eyes traveled down the length of her arm to his hands, kneading her skin.

"Oh. It's called massage. It's not Vulcan neuropressure, but it seems to do the trick," he said, trying to charm away any guilt.

"Why did you begin?" she asked.

"Because, I thought it would help you," he said innocently.

She stood up, as Archer let her arm fall to her side. She continued to stare at him, unblinkingly … which made him nervous.

Archer whispered, "I don't know." Her eyelashes batted themselves in confusion. Her mouth drew into a tight bow and an eyebrow tried to touch her bangs.

With a suddenness that shocked them both, Archer grabbed her shoulders and brought her lips to his. His mouth captured hers easily. His hands traveled down her back as he let a deep breath escape his nostrils. Once his lips touched hers, she could tell he wanted more. He deepened the kiss as his hands clenched her back. She broke their embrace, gently pushing Archer away, feeling her control begin to slip. She tried to steady her emotions. 

"I don't know what the hell came over me," he replied in a hushed voice. Why?! Why had he done that? What on Earth made him attempt it? He had blurred the lines of command, friendship and lust … and badly. This was a textbook mistake, and something he'd had no intention of letting happen.

"May I inquire how you feel about me?" she asked.

Archer shook his head and let out a puff of air. It sounded like she was asking him something as simple as the directions to the nearest restaurant. 

"I believe I deserve to know your feelings and thoughts," she insisted.

He hung his head to his chest. He cleared his throat and thought carefully about how to respond. After some deliberation, he whispered hoarsely, "It wouldn't be appropriate to say."

"I take it then, you have feelings for me that are deeper than friendship?" she asked. 

He looked her in the eye and said, "Yes."

"I see," she replied.

Jon felt a stampede of emotions ranging from guilt, embarrassment, denial, regret, love, caring, hopelessness … and so many others he wasn't sure what to do with. He hung tensely on the balls of his feet, waiting for her to say something. 

"We came to an agreement earlier …" she began.

He put his hands in front of him defensively and rocked back onto his heels. "I know. I know. I'm sorry. I'm sure I'm just tired …. I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry, I was a jackass. I made a mistake …." 

"I did not finish." She confessed, "We came to an agreement earlier, but it was perhaps unfair. I was foolish to put us in a situation where we would become intimate, especially since I knew how you felt about me."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"While in Sickbay, before your shoulder was healed, you … you claimed you had deep feelings for me. I still encouraged you to mate with me to assist your … condition. I believed perhaps the affect of the drug or your near-death experience spurned your affection. Although I sensed there was truth to your claim, because of our dinner conversation, I assumed you no longer felt that emotion."

He couldn't believe his ears. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. She remained silent.

"I … I know the way I feel isn't appropriate," he said.

She raised an eyebrow, but remained quiet. 

"Unless … maybe you feel the same way. How do you feel?" he asked. 

She knew it was a fair question, but didn't have an acceptable answer. "I am uncertain. I believe you to be a dear friend. You are my captain. I trust and admire you. I have come to depend on you. You have saved my life on several occasions. I find you handsome, charming, illogical …."

"But, you said you were unsure about us?" he asked, grasping for straws.

"Yes."

That wasn't necessarily positive, nor was it negative. "Did you feel anything when we were _together_?"

She was taken aback; she understood his meaning. "I did not indicate otherwise."

"You didn't answer my question," he said. 

"No, I did not." She took a deep breath and said evenly, "Yes, I felt something."

"Tell me," he asked, without restraint. Once the words fell off his lips, he knew there was no going back.

"Pleasure," she answered back. "Comfort, safety, desire, the sensation of being cared for…."

He'd asked the wrong question. Just hearing her say she felt something was taking a toll on his libido. He couldn't make his mouth stop working. He instead began confessing, "I felt joy, passion, love, lust, want …. Making love with you felt wonderful. Being with you, holding you, kissing you, having you in my arms felt incredible …." 

He was desperately holding himself at bay. His mouth continued to get him into more trouble. "I know I shouldn't feel this way about you. I've tried ignoring it. I know I shouldn't worry about myself or my feelings; we have this mission to complete."

He whispered, slipping his arms around her waist, "And yet, my emotions keep getting in the way. I'd feel this way whether we slept together or not. But, now that we have, I find myself thinking about how it might happen again. I find myself hoping that …."

"Bridge to Archer," alarmed the comm.

He stared deeply into T'Pol's eyes and then broke off the contact, walking to the comm. "Archer here."

"Sir, Brennon here. I have a communication from Councilwoman Larana," said the beta shift communications officer.

"Patch it through to the Command Center," he said.

"Aye, sir."

"Archer out."

Archer continued to stare at the comm. How could he let things get so out of hand? Before, at least he had the drug to blame. Now, he only had himself. He swiped his hand across his face. Jonathan and the Captain had been two separate entities since they'd reached the Expanse. The two never mingled, and for the most part, Jonathan had been shoved into the back of his mind. He'd really screwed up. He'd really let things get out of control. Archer gathered his mental fortitude and tried stuffing the guy he'd been all his life back to back where he belonged – in the dark and alone. 

She was unsure what to do. She saw him struggling to regain his composure. 

Archer walked over to the con and pressed a few buttons and the dark-haired woman from Benovula came into focus. 

"Captain?" said the councilwoman's voice. "I'm glad to see you looking well."

He smirked.

"You were right about the Xindi. The council building has been bombarded with fire. We were able to defeat them momentarily, giving me long enough to get a message to you. Dralan and the Xindi are heading toward the sphere."

"This on a secure channel?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied.

"How do I know I can trust you?" he asked, nodding to T'Pol to check the security. The Vulcan understood by his gesture and began to work in the background.

"I said we were friends, Captain." 

"Or is it that Dralan has a claim to the power on Benovula now that he has some military power?" asked Archer, skeptically. He heard a ruckus behind her. Larana turned away from the screen distractedly and said something in a language he was unfamiliar with.

"Believe either way," she said. "I risked a communication to you." Suddenly the screen was fuzzy and an explosion was heard behind her. "They're getting closer," she whispered into the screen. Someone came behind her and tugged at her arm. She said, "End transmission."

Archer winced and looked over at T'Pol. "Cryptic," he mentioned.

"Yes," she agreed. "However, it did appear to be on a secure channel."

"Opinion?" he asked.

"Unknown. You knew we had to be careful while visiting the Xindi sphere. Perhaps this is the impetus to be _more_ careful."

He nodded slowly and turned back to the console. He pressed a button. "Archer to the Helm."

"Parnel here," said the beta shift helmsman. 

"ETA to the sphere?" asked Archer.

"Seven hours and forty-two minutes, sir."

"Carry on. Archer out," he said. Archer continued to gaze at the console thoughtfully.

T'Pol said, "I believe you should rest. I need to as well." 

As she turned around, Archer's voice echoed in the room, with command. "I'm sorry for what happened. It won't happen again."

She lowered her voice and turned to face him. She looked into cold eyes, not those of the man staring at her a few moments ago. The light that danced in his pupils was extinguished.

"You have admitted a great deal to me. I am certain revealing that information was painful and perhaps you feel vulnerable now."

His gaze was unwavering and hard.

"What was said to me in that vein was as a friend, not my commander. I would like to think about your words."

"We had an agreement. I broke that commitment. It won't happen again," he reiterated.

'Puzzling,' she thought. Were humans able to completely suppress emotions as Vulcans were? She pondered the idea and doubted it was the case. She'd seen the man physically transform from the man she knew to the man he had become. "My views of you as a commander are unaffected," she indicated.

'My views of my command are affected,' he thought, but didn't change his hard gaze.

She raised an eyebrow. "You are no more impetuous than you were when you decided to face the Vulcan medical team on my behalf when you learned of my Pa'nar Syndrome. I did not mind your lack of logic in that instance, nor did I mind your friendship."

He bit back a smile. He let out a slow breath and stared at her. Was there any wonder why he was crazy about her? He scratched his head. "So, you going to get some sleep?"

"Excellent idea. I will escort you back to your quarters."

He began to argue, but decided she was right. He was exhausted. He held his hand out in front of him. "Ladies first."

They walked down the corridors in quiet, left to ruminate about their thoughts and feelings. She found herself pondering many of the things said, and the questions he had asked her: How did she feel? She was quite correct – uncertain. But, uncertain in and of itself meant that perhaps she returned some feelings for him. Undoubtedly she was accurate in her analysis. She did find him handsome, charming …. But, it seemed there was more. She did feel passion when they touched. Even his spur of the moment kiss in the Command Center felt sensual. His emotions were startling and exciting. 

He was berating himself in his mind for his idiotic stunt. His thoughts played so loudly in his mind, he lost track that someone else was with him, until he looked up at his own door.

"This is me," said Archer.

She raised her eyebrow. "I did not realize we were already here."

He agreed, "We were both kinda quiet."

"I did not feel the need to talk. Your presence is quite comfortable; it is unnecessary for me to fill the silence," she replied. 

"Guess not. Good night," he said walking into his cabin. 

"Good night," she said awkwardly. 

She clasped her hands behind her back and strolled down the hallway to the Mess Hall. Although she was tired, she wanted to further think on her actions before retiring for the night. She wandered into her room and let her feelings spill into her conscious. She admitted he was attractive to her. She admitted to enjoying his company – both mental and physical. She sighed and said to herself, "Perhaps there is more to my thoughts and feelings." 

She determined perhaps the loss of her emotional control meant something. Her decision to assist the captain, despite knowing it would mean something to him was incriminating. She did not feel love. She did not feel friendship. Perhaps, she felt something in between. She changed into her pajamas and laid down, taking her pillow firmly into her hand. 

As she closed her eyes, she thought about his mouth on hers. The tiny hairs on her arms prickled at remembering the sensation. Maybe tomorrow she would discuss this matter with him further.

***************************************************************************** 

Archer woke up to a clanging from his comm. "Reed to Captain Archer," said the box.

Jon looked around trying to jolt himself into alertness. He thumbed the button. "Archer here."

"Sir, we are approaching the sphere. I wanted to let you know we have entered the cloaked area around it."

Archer sat up straight and said, shoving the bed covers off his bare legs, "I'll be there in a few moments. Archer out."

He sprang into action. He took an "academy shower" (five minutes under cold water, five minutes dressing and no shave), bolted down the hallway and pressed the button for the turbolift repeatedly in hopes of getting him to the Bridge that much faster. He stepped onto the deck plating and saw the metal sphere in front of him. 'The weapon,' his mind echoed. 'This could be it.'

He spun to the science station and saw T'Pol calmly looking on. "Can you scan it?" he asked.

She peered into the scanner and replied, "It appears there is an Earth-like atmosphere on the inside. There are also several bio-signs – Benovulan, Xindi and another, which the scanner is unable to identify." She paused. "No ships within the immediate vicinity."

Archer smiled eagerly at the screen. "Can you register the weapon?"

"Not at this time," she replied.

His face fell. He scratched at his stubble and said, "Lt. Reed, have five MACOs meet me in the Shuttle Bay. I expect them to be well-armed."

T'Pol opened her mouth, "Captain, I highly recommend that I accompany the away team, rather than you."

"No," he dismissed. "You're in charge of the ship."

T'Pol did something impulsive; she crossed over to the captain and looked deeply into his eyes. "May I speak with you in your Ready Room?"

Archer crossed his arms, "I need you here, T'Pol. That's an order."

She glanced around the room and decided to confront him. "Sir, Enterprise needs its captain. This mission is dangerous. It is unwise for you to attend."

He stared down at her. "Not a chance. I'll contact you when I get there." He seemed to be satisfied he had the final say and stalked toward the turbolift. 

She called after him, walking toward the lift, "I think there is perhaps another reason you do not choose to have me assist the away party."

Archer stopped dead in his tracks. Surely she wouldn't bring this up in front of everyone? He slowly turned back toward her. "What do you mean?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Would you like to discuss this in your Ready Room?"

His eyes dared her. "In the turbolift on my way to the shuttle." What had gotten into her?

She agreed, "Of course."

"Mr. Reed, you have the Bridge," he called out.

They walked into the lift, as Archer brooded slightly, fixing his gaze straight ahead. 

She hesitated until the doors closed. "I believe you are letting your feelings get in the way."

"You're wrong," said Archer, straight-faced.

"I understand you are concerned for me, but …."

He pressed the button, halting the lift. His face lit up with anger. "It has nothing to do with whatever feelings I told you I had. And, I can't believe you have the audacity to bring them up." He crossed his arms and growled, "Those feelings are gone. I asked you not to come because I need someone on the Bridge who has the experience you do, especially if things don't go well on the sphere." 

She realized she made a misstep with him and said, "It is more logical for the captain to remain with the ship. Vulcan protocols expressly forbid the captain from taking the risks you are trying to take."

"We're not on a Vulcan ship, Sub-commander."

"Captain," she began, pushing the elevator button, pausing it. He stared into her large green eyes and blinked slowly. She continued, "Earth needs its captain. I am not vital to the mission's success."

"That's not true," he rebutted.

She raised her eyebrow. "I disagree. And, I believe the science officer is more necessary on _this _mission."

He hemmed and hawed over the decision. She looked like she wasn't going to back down. She never questioned decisions like this anymore. He relented, "I take it you want to go with me?"

"I was suggesting _instead_, Captain."

"You're not getting your way on that one. But, I can see the … logic in coming with me."

She raised her head. "Very well."

He furrowed his eyebrows. He wouldn't break his commitment. He was all business. He gave a single nod, and without looking at her, headed straight for the shuttle. T'Pol walked to the nearest comm. "Mr. Reed, I will accompany the captain. I suggest opening a secure channel to the shuttle. And, I would like for you to contact us every hour."

"Agreed," said Reed. "The MACOs should be coming down there any moment. I've asked them to arm the landing party."

"Good. Continue scanning the area for any abnormalities or ships. And, if Benovula contacts the sphere, contact me immediately."

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

She noticed Archer was already talking to the landing party and eyeing the weapons at his disposal. He picked up a phase pistol and notched the setting for kill. As she walked up she heard him explain, "This mission is going to be dangerous, but we know Earth is counting on us. I don't want to take any chances. Set to kill." He let his eyes fall on each of the team members, "Be aware and alert. Sub-commander T'Pol will lead Corporal McKenzie, Martinez and Hawkins. I'll lead Fields, and Malone." He smiled and gave a chiding wink to Fields. "You ready?"

"Yes, sir," said the MACOs with a dog-like woof to their voice.

Archer's lips split into a smile as he boarded the shuttle. 

McKenzie took out a weapon and handed it out for T'Pol. "Here, ma'am."

T'Pol's thin fingers caressed the barrel. She creased her brow and holstered her weapon. She walked up and sat at the science station. She brought the systems online, as Archer acted as pilot. He tapped his fingers over the controls and said, "Here we go."

[top]

Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.   
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.   
Reviews provided by Monica. 


	8. Best First Contact Ever 8

Site and resources: the 602 Club Home | About the 602club.com | Contact Me | Directions to Other Bars (Links)   
Stories: Neat (G - PG13) | With a Twist (R)   
Episodes: Reviews | Character Bios   


Best First Contact Ever - Chapter Eight 

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine 

Shuttlepod one zoomed toward the sphere, and the weapon, which housed it without delay. Fields, Malone, Hawkins and McKenzie chatted quietly, as T'Pol and Archer remained silent. The craft urged forward toward the large metallic sphere that loomed ominously before them, suspended in space. The twisted silver alloy melted together like an aluminum ball of twine. The struts that held the object together were weary with age, nearly rusting. And something about it reminded the humans of decay.

"If we could just find the door," Archer noted, glancing at the display in front of him at the helm, trying to study the structure.

T'Pol looked up from her monitor. "Captain, I see an opening. Bearing 7.4, mark 5."

Archer swung his fingers across the board. As the ship hovered near the location, the team could visually see an outer bay door -- securely closed and locked.

T'Pol furrowed her brow. "I can determine if there is a release code." Her fingers furiously tapped the keyboard in front of her. 

Archer'd been able to target a similar locking mechanism before on a sphere, causing the bay doors to open. Unfortunately, he couldn't locate the bull's-eye this time. "What about blasting through the doors?" he asked.

"Unadvisable," she replied. She swept her thin fingers along the board. "One moment." 

Suddenly, the bay doors began to creep open. Archer raised his eyebrows in surprise, turning around slightly. "How'd you do it?"

"I cracked their code."

Archer grinned, "I didn't realize you were a hacker."

"Their system is primitive – a base-7 security model."

Archer beamed and took the shuttlepod in, whispering, "T'Pol, can you locate a safe place to land … as close to the weapon as possible, but far away from life signs?" He hoped there was some semblance of a chance they wouldn't be detected.

A few buttons on her console bleeped and she agreed, "Yes. Bearing 5 mark 4.2."

The shuttle passed through struts and corridors inside the sphere. He took a pathway that seemed like a human vein, turning and bending from one smaller tube to another. It led to another hatch, which opened easily. As they made their way inside, the environment seemed to replicate that of a tropical rain forest. It was lush and overgrown. Archer set the pod down in a small clearing. 

The team assembled, gathered their weapons, communicators and scanners and opened the hatch. Archer tiptoed out first, his phase pistol in hand -- raised near his jaw.  

"This is obviously some sort of biosphere," she claimed waving her scanner in the air, two paces behind Archer. "Unusual that they would place the weapon here." 

Archer shrugged, "I'm sure some scanners can't penetrate a metal hull."

Hawkins dropped his jaw, looking around the jungle, "I wonder why the Xindi chose this atmosphere."

"Perhaps this most closely mirrors their own planet," suggested T'Pol. Her scanner picked up the weapon easily. "Captain, the weapon is at 82 degrees by 55 degrees."

"Good. We'll stick with the plan to split into two teams – it'll be easier to get to the weapon that way." Archer called, "Fields and Malone, we're going to circle around to the North. T'Pol, take Martinez, Hawkins and McKenzie and circle around to the South. Whoever gets their first, detonate that weapon. Stay in communication contact as required." The team nodded, understanding their instructions. Archer looked over at T'Pol. He couldn't help but smirk at her. He was glad she insisted on coming. "Watch your back," he said to her.

"Of course," she replied, noting that it was impossible to watch one's own back. 

Archer smiled, motioned to Fields and Malone and weaved through the jungle until he vanished out of sight. 

The Vulcan felt a small pang of worry cross her brow. She chastised her emotion away and turned to the others. "This way," she instructed to McKenzie, Martinez and Hawkins. 

The scurried through the rainforest, pushed through the overgrowth and remained alert. They'd run nearly two miles when T'Pol heard her scanner begin to beep. She glanced down, noting two bio-readings in the immediate vicinity – two non-human bio-signs. She decided to pick the pace, hoping that they hadn't been spotted, and ran faster toward the weapon. Her team lagged behind, unable to catch up.

"You're a damned fast," puffed Martinez loudly, attempting to catch up. 

She slowed her pace slightly, still wanting to remain undetected. "I apologize."

"At least you're giving Esteban a run for his money," chided McKenzie, struggling to keep up. 

Hawkins grinned following closely behind, completely out of breath. As T'Pol noted the red hue overtaking his face, her scanner lit up like a Christmas tree and she crouched down quickly. The MACOs followed suit as the Vulcan noted quietly three people were approaching.

They remained still and hidden in the thick foliage as whoever it was, got closer. T'Pol could barely pick up the traces of a conversation. She turned her head slightly, hoping to hear more of what they had to say.

A voice began in the middle of a sentence, "… No, it's something. They have to be around here somewhere."

"Obviously," replied another voice that sounded incredibly familiar. T'Pol analyzed it as he spoke again. "The Xindi are counting on them returning."

'Dralan,' she thought to herself.

Within an instant three more bio-signs blinked on her screen; more were on the way. T'Pol hesitated on determining the correct course of action. She did not want to reveal themselves, but was beginning to feel they were being sought out, and she knew a defensive position was always weaker than an offensive one. Also, if they _did _reveal themselves Archer and his team might have a better chance at finding the weapon and destroying it. Logic dictated she move with her team now.

T'Pol nodded to the MACOs. They peeked over the thick leaves and began firing on the well-armed aliens. Dralan ducked for cover immediately, as a close-range firefight began. Enterprise's crewmen had a slight advantage – they were already hidden and could pop shots off quickly and easily.  

The MACOs practiced "prairie-dogging" looking up shooting and dodging for cover again. T'Pol mimicked some of these moments, but not in the precise way that the humans did. They were able to clip a few, as T'Pol began to try and circle around, as she'd seen Archer do several times before, to surprise them from behind.

As she crept toward them, shots fired entirely too close to her team. Martinez was nearly nailed with a blast, as he barely dodged out of the way. Hawkins, the best shooter of the group, was able to level five people single-handedly. Unfortunately, more and more Xindi and Benovulan reinforcements came, forcing the Vulcan to realize they were already becoming trapped. 

As Martinez popped up to take a clear shot, a blast hit him in the back, sending the MACO squarely to the ground. T'Pol, diving for cover, was stunned at the death of the young man.

"Surrender," said a reptilian Xindi.

T'Pol weighed her options. Her scanner was filled with more troops heading in their direction. If they continued to fight, undoubtedly they'd loose their lives, but might distract the enemy so that Archer and his team could obliterate the weapon. Perhaps this firefight was enough. Suddenly, she saw McKenzie was already captured and decided their fate was sealed. The sub-commander reached her hands upward, as Dralan collected himself and walked forward. He gave a large smile and leered at T'Pol. Hawkins laid down his rifle and forced his hands upward.

"Sub-commander T'Pol," he said. "Well, this is good news." He eyed McKenzie and Hawkins and grinned, "And, the Xindi have a human male and female. It seems today everyone wins."

He grabbed T'Pol's chin as she defiantly looked over his shoulder. "I presume you will hand me over to the Xindi," she commented.

"The Xindi are more interested in the humans than you. For you? I have other arrangements."

"What are you going to do with us?" asked Hawkins, angrily. 

A Reptilian Xindi struck the human's jaw without thought. "We're taking you back to camp. We need to research your species further."

"Do not harm my people," she claimed, eyeing Dralan, hoping he would speak up for her crewmen. "We can surely make other arrangements." 

He grinned, knowing she was playing on his emotions. "I don't need to win your affections this way. I have other plans."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow as two Benovulan guards grabbed her arms and pushed the team toward their camp … where the Xindi weapon was housed.

As they reached the site, they noticed many of the same symbols and markings the Benovulans had on their planet. Rich brightly colored velvet tents were scattered inside the clearing. In juxtaposition to those were the Xindi tents, which were more militaristic – green, like the jungle, small and functional – definitely not opulent. Dralan walked into a large, plush red tent as T'Pol was forced behind him. She looked over her shoulder and noted Hawkins and McKenzie taken into one of the Xindi's in close proximity. Her brow furrowed thinking what would happen to her team.

"We can negotiate to release the humans," she said.

Dralan flung off his coat with a laugh, as his guards retreated and shut the flap behind her, leaving them alone. She noted the abode was lavishly decorated and creature comforts were visible everywhere; his room looked like it was more for entertainment than wartime strategy. Pillows were tossed all over the floor, acting as a bed. A tablecloth draped over a small table, with flowers and a crimson liquor garnishing it. 

"Vulcans are quite strong," she warned, although she wasn't sure what she was threatening.

"I'm sure," he agreed. He unbuttoned the top two notches of his shirt and stared into T'Pol's eyes. "I have to admit, I've wanted you since I first saw you on Benovula."

She raised an eyebrow. Something in her stomach tickled with fear. She pushed the feeling down and remained stoic.

He smiled and said, "I thought you were quite beautiful … in fact you still are. Exceptional really." His eyes focused on her as a malicious grin made its way across his face. "I like exceptional things." 

She took a deep breath, "My two crewmen …." 

"There's nothing you can do for them. I'm just fortunate you accompanied them," he whispered. He removed the top from the decanter of the dark liquid and poured it into a glass. He swirled it in the air and breathed in the aroma. His lips curled around it and he drank deeply, beaming at the taste.

She folded her arms across her chest. He was obviously interested in her, personally, and it seemed little would distract him. She eyed the man's physique. He was not unattractive. He had dark curly hair and mysterious violet eyes. His skin was somewhat pale and his lips were dark, almost the color of the wine he sipped. But, his mannerisms and his behavior repelled her. 

"Would you like something to drink?" he asked, holding up his glass, swirling the liquid in his hand.

"No," she replied. "There must be something, some trade or negotiation for my crew …"

Dralan took another sip and waved his jeweled hand in the air. "The humans destroy their planet sometime in the future. The Xindi want an opportunity to 'eliminate the humans first.' I believe your crewmen will be experimented on and then killed after they have served their usefulness. That's what happens in war."

"And what would you know of war, Dralan? As a councilmember, you were born into privilege."

"I was meant to rule. I have charisma, prestige …."

"Modesty? Your thirst for power is criminal. Although Councilwoman Larana seemed misguided, I believe she would be more interested in the people of Benovula."

"Criminal? No, it's my destiny. Besides, Larana doesn't have the instinct to choose her allies well." 

"And you chose to ally yourself with a race that enslaved your own people?"

"Times change, T'Pol. But enough of politics." He closed the distance between them and ran his bony finger against her cheek. "Speaking of allies … I admire the Vulcans. I think your people and mine should join forces, don't you think?"

"Certainly not," she said, recoiling from his clammy touch.

"You should have a sip of this," he insisted, referring to his wine.

She backed away, prepared to use the Vulcan arts or a neck pinch to incapacitate him. Dralan called his guards in, who came bounding in and grabbed T'Pol. The councilman gave a simple nod as they forced her to the ground, knocking her knees against the pillows scattered on the floor. One grabbed her hair as the other forced her mouth open. He poured a large quantity of the mixture down her throat and smiled. She gulped it down hoping to breathe, but was tempted to spit it out. 

'Barbaric,' she thought.

"I think our people will be allies before you know it," he whispered. "On my planet alliances start with marriage. I can think of no better companion." He eyed her noting she'd make a beautiful wife.

 "Your people believe in many marriages," she noted, feeling the contents run through her system and causing her to feel lightheaded. As her dizziness passed, she slumped to the floor. The guards left her there, pooled on the ground and exited the room. Dralan thought about the delightful evening that was in store for him, knowing the Vulcan would become wrapped in his arms and begging him to consummate their … alliance.

He suggested, "You should change into something more appropriate and join me for dinner." He looked over her and said, "It's a pity I have business to attend to."

He crouched down and stroked her hair, as she turned away from his hand. "Don't worry. You'll be feeling more receptive in no time," he said and then marched away.

She tried to regain her composure, but felt deflated. Undoubtedly the councilman was more interested in her than she had supposed. A gown was thrown into the room as she contemplated her next move. She looked at it and with a near-frown, rubbing the silky fabric between her thumb and forefinger. Just touching the dress made her long for Dralan's crooked smile and dark features. 

'It is taking effect already,' she confirmed to herself. 

While conducting scientific research with Dr. Phlox, on her 'vacation,' she had the misfortune to encounter a pathogen that brought on symptoms of Pon Farr. She believed she was given the same elixir that had caused amorous feelings in the captain only days before. 

The captain -- Jonathan.

Just thinking his name caused a chill to run along her spine. Her mind tried to focus on the mission, but she helplessly visualized the cleft in his chin, his brilliant green eyes and delicious lips. 

She imagined those lips running down her neck and shivered, as she remembered their night together only a few days ago. A thin eyebrow shot up against her bangs as she decided it would be more appropriate to meditate. 

***************************************

Archer, Malone and Fields had already staked out the perimeter, located the bio weapon and located a slight incline that enabled them to see the entire camp. They hid under the green leaves as Fields wiped away some sweat.

"I thought the Amazon was warm," noted Malone.

Archer nodded, zooming in with his binoculars. While they skulked around the perimeter, something about the encampment, in general, nagged at Archer. For starters, military strongholds never had lavish, velvet tents in colors that were easy to spot, certainly not the Reptilian Xindi. Another thing – he thought he'd recognized the symbols on the flaps of those velvet structures. 

He looked at the markings and thought about his trip with T'Pol to Benovula. The idea lit his brain and he confirmed – Benovulan. Archer frowned; he'd bet money Dralan had something to do with this. The councilman seemed money and power hungry, finding and betraying the humans would satisfy him and that Machiavellian lust.

As Archer zoomed in, he spied the very man he'd thought was behind this – Dralan. He was coming out of a tent, with a ludicrous smile on his face. Jon raised his eyebrows and looked back at the scene, hoping to gather more information. Something about it stuck in his craw. 

"The Benovulan councilman," he said aloud. The two MACOs scanned the perimeter as he set down the lenses and retrieved his communicator.

"Archer to T'Pol," he stated.

The communicator was unresponsive.

A furrow worked its way onto his forehead as he looked at Fields with concern. "Archer to Sub-commander T'Pol."

No answer.

Fields spoke up, "We're within communications range, sir."

"Archer to Hawkins," he said, knowing they gave the MACOs communicators earlier.

Nothing.

"Sir, I'm getting Vulcan bio-signs at heading 7.2, mark 9," noted Malone with concern.

Archer knew exactly where that was by pure instinct. She was in Dralan's tent. He checked his binoculars and noted the bearing. Sometimes a gut feeling was 100% accurate.

Malone noted, "I'm getting two human bio-signs from 7.2, mark 1."

"Two?" confirmed Archer.

Malone nodded, "Yes, sir. Only two."

Archer weighed in his mind the mission, versus saving his people. Actually, there wasn't much thought. As soon as Malone announced T'Pol was captive, his mind raced on ways to rescue her … as if his lover were being held, not his first officer. When Tom's next comment about the two MACOs was delivered, the mantle of captain slipped back over him. No doubt about it, he was going in after his men and try to figure out what had happened to the third.

"I want you two to get to the Xindi weapon. Wait for my signal before detonation. I'm going into camp."

"Yes, sir," they chimed in. 

He bellied up to the ridge he was looking out over, peered into his binoculars one more time and scurried down toward the encampment, crouching low so as not to be detected. He set his sights on a Benovulan guard … one just about his height and weight … and took off.

***************************************

Strangely, T'Pol wanted to be appealing to Dralan for their dinner that night, and slipped out of her outfit, into the silky gown. She told herself she was changing to discourage the guards from forcing the dress on her. But, she realized it was mostly because of her fever – the need to mate, which was getting worse. Her thoughts drifted to Archer again, recalling their night of passion together. His hair was sweaty in her fingertips and his rough chin scraped against her cheek during their embrace. She recalled him whispering in her ear, hoarsely, urging her to …. 

'Perhaps I should continue to meditate,' she thought, trying to vanquish Archer's image.

Dralan threw open the flap and grinned at the Vulcan, permitting his eyes to roam her body. "I see you changed. That's excellent. It seems my business concluded early. I didn't want you to be by yourself." ****

T'Pol glanced away. She was calling on willpower that was nearly bankrupt. 

"I have nothing to say to you," she said, defiantly and to her dismay with emotion.

"The most difficult conquests are the most rewarding," he said, slithering up next to her, sitting on the pillows. He touched her shoulder as she jumped underneath his touch. She wasn't startled, on the contrary it felt soothing to her, and sensual. An eyebrow peaked as she scooted away.

"I know the drug is working," he commented. "I'd hoped maybe you had succumb to its affects already." He noticed pools of sweat gathered around her hairline and grinned. "Yes, I think it's working."

T'Pol realized she was staring at his lips and turned away.

He scooped his hand underneath her chin, bringing his mouth close to hers. "I can see in your eyes you want me." He ran a finger along her ear.

As their lips were about to touch, Archer slipped into the tent and furrowed his brow, coughing politely, his phase pistol drawn and pointed at Dralan. 

"Captain?" asked Dralan, eyeing the man dressed in a Benovulan uniform. 

Archer smiled. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he said, shooting the phase pistol at the councilman, stunning him.

Seeing Archer elevated T'Pol's hormones, exacerbating the problem. He held out a hand, hoping to help her up, instead, she dragged him on top of her unexpectedly. 

"Did Dralan drug you?" asked the captain almost out of courtesy; she seemed a little … okay a lot … interested in him.

"Yes," she said, licking his throat. "I've been given the aphrodisiac."

As her tongue stroked his adam's apple, he hoarsely whispered, "We're getting you out of here." He attempted to stand up, but felt her rubbing against him. 

"I need your help," she suggested.

Archer raised his eyebrows, knowing what kind of assistance she wanted. While he was affected by the drug, it was difficult for him not to touch her or think about her.

"I received a rather large … dose," she moaned. Indeed, she had determined Archer received a small drink, like a shot full of the liquid. She received easily three times the amount. Her hand began to caress his face. 

He whispered, "T'Pol, I need you to focus. We have to rescue our people, but we only spotted two bio-signs."

Her mind seemed set on seducing him, as if she couldn't stop herself. During Pon Farr, Vulcans were rough with their mates. Their arousal reached near-fevered pitches, driving all logic from their orderly minds; T'Pol felt well on her way to that level of stimulation. Although she tried to fight it, Archer was too near to stop the madness from taking over her control. Her lips fought to capture his and she pulled him against her.

With something akin to annoyance he said, "T'Pol." Using her increased strength, she twisted her body until she was on top of him. A faint smile graced her lips as she forced his hands above his head. 

She writhed against his body, stalking him like an animal. She seemed ready to pounce on him at any moment as she mumbled in Vulcan and kissed his neck. She grabbed his two fingers and wound hers around his, rubbing her knee against the inside of his thigh. Archer was beside himself, unable to stop her onslaught. He attempted to squirm out of her control, but realized she was stronger and had him pinned.

He whispered, "We've got to get to McKenzie, Martinez and Hawkins." 

Her hands slithered down his chest as she whispered back half in English, and half in Vulcan, "Martinez soya'vala. McKenzie and Hawkins ne'meya Xindi." After divulging this information, she licked his lips. 

He knew two of the MACOs were held by the Xindi, but wondered about the other. He urged, "I need you to tell me what soya'vala means."

"Dead," she whispered, nibbling on his ear.

He frowned. They all would be if she didn't stop her advancements. 

"I'm sorry a'nara Martinez," she said, tenderly biting his jaw line.

He considered his options – stun T'Pol and continue, or give in to her as she had done for him. Option number two – giving in – seemed like a bad idea. They were in the middle of the Benovulan's camp, next to a stunned evil Benovulan councilman, they needed to destroy the weapon they had on this planet and rescue two crewman. She released his grasp and tugged on his Benovulan uniform, trying to cajole it off. He let his hands slowly move down toward his sides, when he suddenly grabbed his phase pistol, gave a quick glance at the setting and speedily attempted to fire.

Instead, she was able to capture his hand and force it from his grasp. He saw his defeat as his weapon was knocked out of arm's reach and the Vulcan was becoming more demanding. Maybe he would be forced to go with option number two.

He cooed into her ear,  "Okay, you win." His lips pressed against her neck, biting tenderly. 

She grabbed his hair wildly, causing him to wince in pain and arousal. His mouth captured hers as she arched into him. Her body temperature seemed well above normal, as her lips nearly scorched his when they touched. He nipped at her ear, she moaned. He parted her mouth with his tongue, she deepened the embrace. If things weren't so dire, he would've thought the whole thing was comical, especially her response to every advance he made. Every gesture from him caused her to pant. As she was lulled into submission, he rolled on top of her and aggressively held her arms over her head with his hands. She dove for his lips as he retrieved his phaser and fired.

Instead of seeing her slump against the pillows, she grabbed her shoulder, where he aimed, and frowned. "Why did you do that?" she growled, weakened and slightly disoriented.

Archer, after getting over the shock she wasn't out like a light, wished he had a third option worked out. "I had to. We've got to get the MACOs and get back to the shuttlepod." He scrambled to his feet, before she could make another move.

Having him on top of her felt glorious. The places on her neck where he'd kissed her were tingling and she wanted to feel that way again. She stood quickly and rubbed her hands on his chest.

"I thought you would've enjoyed my advances," she whispered.

He struggled within himself. Hell yeah he liked her advances, but he understood she was using the confession he'd given her last night against him. And he didn't like that at all.

Ignoring her he said, "Come on." He grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the tent.

A guard had gathered on the outside of the tent and looked surprised to see the two. Archer tried to recover, "Apparently the councilman gave her the right to visit her comrades."

The guard smiled. "I knew he'd give into her."

T'Pol's eyes were dark and she gave a weak smirk in return. He watched her being dragged away, as the Vulcan looked over her shoulder with want, panting at the guard's desire for her. Archer rolled his eyes and felt a twinge of jealousy work its way up his spine. 

As they neared the tent where the MACOs were being held, Jon whispered, "T'Pol, I need you to focus and follow my lead."

She nodded submissively, nuzzling his neck. "What will you give me?"

He furrowed his brow and tightened his grip on her, forcing her forward. The two came up to the tent as a Reptilian Xindi looked at the two and said, "What do you want?"

"Councilman Dralan has agreed to let her see her crewmen."

The Reptilian eyed the woman – sweating, dark eyed, green cheeks and pouty lips. Disgusted, he thought humanoids were fixated on sex. He gave a firm nod, but wanted to confirm it with the councilman himself. He retrieved a communications device.

Archer noted the movement with alarm and sped into the tent. He rushed to untie them as he tried to overlook their bruises and cuts.

"You okay?" he asked McKenzie.

"Yes, sir," she said, helping to free herself when her hands were untied.

T'Pol restrained her emotions long enough to help untie Hawkins.

"Thanks, ma'am," said the MACO, thinking the Vulcan looked a little worse for wear.

Archer opened up his communicator and said hastily into it, "Now."

A Reptilian hurried into the tent, wielding a large phase rifle. "I think you should stay where you are."

The team placed their hands in the air slowly when suddenly an explosion knocked them to the ground, sending all of them and their weapons sprawling. Hawkins climbed to his feet and grabbed the Reptilian's weapon, holding it to the Xindi's head.

Archer smiled, grabbed his phase pistol, snatched T'Pol's arm and ran out the door. The four sprinted toward the shuttle, dodging and weaving to avoid fire. 

"Head for the jungle," shouted Archer. T'Pol slipped her hand in his, trying to keep her mind occupied on reaching the shuttle, rather than tackling the captain. But, with every step it became harder and harder. Her mind was wrecked with the idea of kissing him.

With the shuttle barely in sight, Jon felt a little better. He stopped to find out where Malone and Fields were, taking his hand from T'Pol's and placing it around his communicator.

"Archer to Fields," said the captain.

"We're on our way, sir," yelled Jack Fields, huffing into the device as if he was out of breath.

Archer felt an overwhelming sense of relief and placed his communicator back in his pocket, when he was shoved to the ground. T'Pol stalked over him.   
  


"Please, Jonathan," she begged. She nibbled on his lips feverishly.

"We've got to get to the shuttle," he answered angrily, hoping that would needle her to get up.

"I know you want me," she said, walking her fingers across his "borrowed" Benovulan uniform.

"Stop it," he claimed. "Get off, that's an order, Sub-commander."

"Last night, you said you were in love with me," she whispered. 

"Get off," he said, bucking to have her release him. He knew the Benovulans and Xindi were probably close. 

"You said you wanted to be with me again. I would currently find that highly pleasurable. And, now's your opportunity," she told him.

He knew the drug was affecting her. She continued to writhe over him, teasing him to continue. The last statement stung a little – he took it to mean T'Pol would only be interested in him now, while being under the influence of the drug. Well, Archer had already decided it wouldn't happen. He couldn't let it.

He decided to play into it as a ruse. "I do want you," he confessed. "I do love you."

She was satisfied at his comments and took his lips in hers, moaning at the feeling of their mouths touching. He groaned a little in return, but did so more because she felt good than acting the part.

"And if you come with me to the shuttle, I'll do anything you want." He suckled her ear and repeated, "Anything."

"No, I need you now," she said, barely able to speak English. Her mind was reeling off phrases in Vulcan.

Jon sighed internally and said hoarsely in her ear, "If you come with me into that shuttle, I'll do anything you want and as many times as you want once we get back to Enterprise." He kissed her neck to sweeten the deal. 

He could tell she was thinking it over. She still seemed unconvinced.

He added, "Besides, here it'll be over too quickly." He groaned against her lips and ran his hands through her hair. "I thought Vulcans were patient."

She furrowed her brow slightly, but pushed herself off of him, took his hand and ran toward the shuttle. Archer rolled his eyes. 'Thank God,' he thought. As they darted and weaved into the shuttle, Malone and Fields boarded.

"What took you so long?" asked Hawkins.

"Things were heating up a little," commented Archer, off-handedly.  He jumped into the pilot's seat and took off. He began evasive maneuvers as the shuttle was fired upon. T'Pol's focus was completely gone. She stared at Jon and wiped the sweat off her brow without indicating what damage was done, where they were or how to get out. 

Archer noticed McKenzie was in the jump seat as navigator. 

"Status, McKenzie," requested Archer.

She viewed the information and said, "They hit our engines, but the damage seems minimal. Looks like our best bet is to head out at bearing 2.1, mark 6." Her head swiveled over to T'Pol who gazed wildly at the captain. The woman knew something was wrong, but decided to keep her mind on the tasks at hand.

The shuttlepod sped through the outer doors of the sphere and toward Enterprise.

"Enterprise to Shuttlepod One," asked Trip.

"Archer here."

"Shuttlebay doors are open for ya," claimed the Engineer.

"Thanks, Trip. Once we're docked get us outta here. I'm pretty sure the Xindi will call in reinforcements."

"Yes, sir." 

"And, have Dr. Phlox meet us in the shuttlebay," he mentioned, looking over his shoulder at a Vulcan eyeing him suspiciously. "We have some folks who are wounded."

"Aye, sir. Tucker out."

That explanation satisfied her, but she couldn't help but gaze at him. Her face was drenched in sweat and her hormones were raging. She tried to preoccupy herself imaging the moment they returned to Enterprise, counting down the minutes.

As the shuttle landed in the bay, the crew climbed out. Archer, the first one out, grabbed Phlox's arm and said, "You know the antidote you developed a few days ago?"

Phlox smiled creepily. "Of course, Captain."

Archer said quietly, "T'Pol's been infected. I'll try to get her to Sickbay for a treatment."

"I thought you two had worked out a more convenient method to eliminate those effects," indicated Phlox with a hideous grin.

Archer frowned, as the rest of the team walked up the stairs and out of the shuttle. Phlox tended to Hawkins and McKenzie, scanning their injuries. 

With relief he said, "I'm glad to see they're only superficial. Come with me to Sickbay." Phlox waddled off to Sickbay, with the MACOs in tow.

As T'Pol left the shuttle, her eyes focused on the captain. Her hand stroked the back of his Benovulan uniform as she whispered phrases in Vulcan. Archer swallowed deeply – she ogled him with incredible hunger and he wanted to offer himself up as blue plate special. 

He held up two fingers, which she eagerly took – gasping at their touch. She suggestively twirled her fingers around his hand and ran them against his chin. 

"Come here," he said hoarsely, aware they were drawing attention from his crewmen.  

She pressed up against his body and he whispered, "Let's go."   

[top]

Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.   
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.   
Reviews provided by Monica. 


	9. Best First Contact Ever 9

Site and resources: the 602 Club Home | About the 602club.com | Contact Me | Directions to Other Bars (Links)   
Stories: Neat (G - PG13) | With a Twist (R)   
Episodes: Reviews | Character Bios   


Best First Contact Ever - Chapter Nine 

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine - the end 

T'Pol whimpered into Archer's mouth as his lips covered hers. The tiny noises she emitted were driving him crazy. Archer dove for her lips again once they were out in the hall, and confirmed no one was coming. Rather than stop every few feet for another kiss, walking her slowly backward, Jon decided to pick her up, swinging her into his arms. As he did so, she exhaled huskily. 

She didn't notice anything around her except for him. Vulcan phrases spilled from her lips as he continued to cover them, attempting to distract her. Her fingers were wound in his hair and her tongue begged him to continue to embrace her.

He realized he was panting into her mouth, as a crewman passed by who tried to keep his eyes directly ahead, but did a piss-poor job of it. Jon neglected the man, focusing on her and debated in his mind whether to take her back to his cabin. As soon as he imagined himself covering her with his body, he knew it would be wrong. He didn't want to take advantage of her, even though this felt exquisite. He knew under normal circumstances T'Pol wouldn't have been sexually interested in him. She seemed to make that pretty apparent during their "discussion" at lunch the other day. 

Instead, he reveled in the moment, knowing it wouldn't be long and distracted her as he made his way to Sickbay.

She barely heard two doors swish open. Faint recognition reached her, as the smell of the medical facility interrupted her senses. She stared into Archer's eyes.

"You made a promise to me," she stated weakly, after searching for how to say it in English.

He set her down on one of the bio-beds as Phlox strapped her down, hoping she wouldn't become violent. The doctor knew a little something about Vulcan females entering Pon Farr, and didn't want a repeat of that incident.

As Archer helped to strap her left arm down, she fought him. 

"I must have you," she growled, grabbing his arm, squeezing it until Archer thought his bone would snap.

He winced. "T'Pol, you're not yourself. Just let go and ... ."

While the captain got her attention, Phlox sedated her with nearly double the amount he would normally use. He noticed rather than conk out, she remained awake a little longer.

"I would've thought you wanted me," she said, weakly. "You said so before ... ."

Archer sighed and stared into her eyes. He gave a brief glance to Phlox, who obviously pretended not to hear the conversation. He then stroked her cheek and whispered, "Ironically, that's just one of the reasons I'm doing this."

She pathetically rubbed her face against his hand as she succumbed to the sedative. Her eyes began to slowly lose focus and close as Archer frowned. 

Phlox decided to give his two cents. "For whatever it's worth, I agree with your decision."

Archer gave a slight nod and turned abruptly to walk out the door. "Let me know when she's feeling better."

Phlox nodded. "Of course."

As the captain marched out of Sickbay, he felt a pang in his heart. The woman of his dreams had begged him to make love to her. Had pleaded. And 90% of him had wanted to; it was sadly the moralistic 10% of him that knew it was wrong. He stepped into the turbolift imagining her nearly tearing off his uniform; on the sphere, she had come close. He noted the deck he was passing as he visualized her stalking him like a lioness. He shook his head, remembering her sweat-drenched hair, dark green cheeks and swollen lips.

He cleared the visage as he stepped onto the Bridge. He wanted to keep things nice and professional, as he'd agreed to do. Professional? Ah, hell. He'd given her a nice speech a couple of days ago, insisting he could put his feelings behind him, but that just wasn't going to work. 

"Status?" asked Archer.

Trip maneuvered out of the captain's chair. "Good timing. A ship just popped onto our scans."

Hoshi looked up, "They're trying to hail us, sir."

Archer furrowed his brow and nodded toward the screen, walking behind Mayweather.

The image that displayed should've shocked Archer, but somehow he knew she would turn up again, and soon.

"Councilwoman," he said with a weak smile.

"Captain, I'm pleased to see you are well. I have found out some information," she said, rushing to the point.

"I bet," he grumbled.

"I was hoping, we could ... rekindle our friendship. I have information to provide you. Perhaps you could join us here ... or ... ."

Jon turned his head over his shoulder and caught Trip's eyes. He sighed, "You're welcome to come aboard."

She smiled, "Thank you for your trust."

He flatly replied, "Don't mention it."

As the screen darkened, Trip hid a grin. He could tell the councilwoman was enamored with his captain. And, he could also tell his captain was plain old annoyed with her. Archer folded his arms and stared down at the deck plating for a moment, trying to put his thoughts in order about having her back on his ship. If he didn't need the Xindi weapon so badly, he never would've invited her aboard. He just hoped she wasn't leading him on.

"You want me to meet her," offered Trip, trying to be helpful.

Jon exchanged a thankful glance. "No. But, I would like you to have dinner with us. The more the merrier."

"I bet," replied Trip, widening his smile into a grin.

Jon frowned. "See you at 1800 hours. Don't be late, will ya?"

*********************************************

Archer marched down the hall reluctantly. He thought about stopping into Sickbay, but wanted to let his first officer rest. Undoubtedly she'd be embarrassed by her actions; he certainly was when he was affected by the ... love potion. He rounded the corner and stood patiently at the door where the ships had docked.

Within a few minutes, Larana stepped out, wearing one of her most regal and appealing outfits. Archer noted with irony it was the same one she wore the night of the Benovulan party, welcoming them as friends ... and the night she slipped him a mickey. 

"Captain," she said, beaming.

He could tell she was still attracted to him, a thought that gave him a slight buzz. After confessing his love, worse desire, to T'Pol which he didn't think she returned, it was nice having a woman pay a little attention to him ... and not be drugged.

"Councilwoman," he said, looming over her 5'4" frame. 

"You've never formally shown me around," she noted, taking his arm.

He gave a small guffaw. "Let's cut to the chase. The information?"

"I thought we could mix business and pleasure."

"Then I suggest heading to the Command Center. Depending on the information you give me, _maybe_ I'll take you on a tour."

She gave a slight frown. "Are you always _this_ congenial with your guests?"

"Only the ones who betray me, try to seduce me and lie to me."

She knitted her brows.

Feeling he had the upper hand in that round of volleys, he led her down the corridors and to the Command Center. For some reason it seemed less problematic than the Bridge's Ready Room. 

They walked in and she looked around. "This room looks very lonely."

He frowned, knowing he spent a lot of time in the room. "The information?"

"In fact, you seem rather lonely," she noted, picking up on his change in mood.

He decided to remind her more sternly, "The information?"

"I know where they are building the weapon to destroy your planet."

Archer edged forward. "Where is it?"

"My people fought hard to get this information."

"Where is it?!"

"The weapon is located in an underwater city on Azati Prime," she divulged.

Archer immediately turned around and began to tap a few controls to bring it up. "Where's it located?"

She sashayed over to him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "The Malayan quadrant." She leaned into him slightly and pointed a pink painted nail at the screen. "There."

Archer brought the system up, focusing in on the planet. He couldn't believe he'd found it. This was the Holy Grail. This was it. A gloomy thought crossed his mind; maybe this wasn't it. 

"How do I know I can trust you?" he asked.

Pity resounding in her voice, she said, "I have very little left. The council has become divided, the Xindi have betrayed me ... and I need all the friends I can get. You said that to me once, do you remember? It was when you were first on Benovula. You had nothing to offer my people, and you begged for our help."

She looked up into his eyes and saw him soften a little. He gathered that was the absolute truth. She looked desperate, needy, deflated and forsaken. There was no place for her to go, and no one to turn to. He suddenly had a lot of sympathy for her, despite ... well ... their history. He sighed and nodded toward the screen at Azati Prime. "Do the Xindi know you're aware of this?"

She blinked carefully and shook her head. "No. My personal aid was tortured and eventually killed to retrieve this information for me." Her personal aid was more personal than aid.

He furrowed his brow. He walked over to the comm and pressed his finger on the switch. "Archer to the Bridge."

"Reed here, sir. Go ahead."

"I'd like to head toward Azati Prime, warp 3. Take some long-range scans until we reach there; we're looking for kemocite." Archer thought he could get there faster, but not with the Benovulan ship docked.

"Aye, sir."

"How long will it take to get there?"

Mayweather chimed in, "About four days, sir, at the current speed."

"Thanks. Archer out." He paused by the box, thinking about the woman behind him. He turned his head over his shoulder and asked, "What do you want from me?"

"A tour might be a nice place to start," she replied with a weak smile.

Archer gave a small grin back and nodded. He thought it would give him a chance to stop by Sickbay and see how T'Pol was recovering, if she was still there.

************************************************************

T'Pol began to feel the effects of the drug slip away, as her eyes barely crept open. 

"Ahhhh, Sub-commander T'Pol. I see you're awake," noted Phlox, merrily heading over to the bio-bed, as if eager for someone to talk with.

She thought about her deplorable behavior with a tinge of embarrassment. She sat up slowly as Phlox hovered over her like a mother hen.

"Uh-uh-uh. I'd like to run a few scans on you to make sure you're feeling okay," he said, grinning widely.

"I feel fine," she replied with just a little less stoicism than normal. In fact, she felt the symptoms were mostly gone, but noticed her emotions were on the surface a little more than usual. She tried to be patient as the doctor waved a scanner in front of her face and made "hmmm" noises.

"Your diagnosis?" she asked, starting to become annoyed.

"As the humans would say, 'fit as a fiddle,'" he replied.

"Excellent, then I will resume my duties."

"Not so fast. I would like you to take the rest of the day off. You seem a little more ... on edge than usual."

She furrowed her brow. "On the contrary. I feel relaxed." She wanted to see the captain and perhaps discuss their situation on the planet. She felt she owed him an apology.

He eyed her suspiciously and then decided. "Alright. Just, take it easy."

She raised an eyebrow and hopped off the bio-bed. "Thank you," she said, as she sauntered out the doors.

Phlox shrugged and went back to feeding his menagerie, something that always seemed to take more time than he thought it would, as the doors slid shut.

T'Pol took a deep breath and began to tap her boots down the hall, when she heard the captain and a female voice. As she rounded the corner she nearly ran into them. Archer was wearing a sizeable grin, and Larana seemed doe-eyed, gazing up at the captain. 

"T'Pol?" asked Archer, smirking. "How are you feeling?"

Her eyes moved over to Larana who seemed draped all over the captain. Her hand was positioned through his arm, and her other hand stroked his forearm, just as it had the day they met the Benovulans. In fact, the Vulcan noted the councilwoman had worn the same outfit the night of the party, one that was revealing in all the places it seemed human men enjoyed outfits to be. Her eyebrows sloped down together.

"Better," said T'Pol, possibly a little too abruptly.

Jon gave her a look of concern as she recovered. "I am feeling only mild repercussions of the drug."

Larana stared down the Vulcan harlot – the competition. While she'd been alone with Archer, they'd laughed, talked quietly and smiled. As soon as T'Pol was within sight, the captain's demeanor completely changed. He was keyed up, eager and slightly afraid. She'd seen it before, even in their visit to her home world, but came to the conclusion that maybe he was afraid of the Vulcan species. Instead, what she learned was he was in love with her. And gauging T'Pol's reaction, maybe she felt the same way. 

Archer said to his sub-commander, "You should take the rest of the day off."

T'Pol gave a near-frown. "I could escort the councilwoman around the ship, if you'd prefer."

"No, that's not necessary."

Feeling slighted, or like the captain wanted Larana's company, T'Pol only gave a slight nod. "Very well." The tone of her voice had a certain snootiness to it.

Archer feeling like she was being nasty for no reason said, "You going to be at dinner?"

"What time?" she asked, watching the Benovulan.

"1800 hours."

"I see. Who else will be attending?" asked T'Pol.

Archer raised his eyebrows. Did she want to see if Trip was coming? He recalled, "Well, me, the councilwoman and Trip."

T'Pol took a deep breath. Larana would be there. She looked between the two for a split second and said, "Of course. I have not seen the commander since our last neuropressure session."

Jon gave a small smirk and a nod; he knew it. "See you then." He began to meander down the hall, trying not to get lost in thought. He said, "Larana, I'll show you the Armory?"

T'Pol watched the two walk off, noting that Larana had swiveled into him ever so slightly. The Vulcan had been angry before, but this was difficult to control. He had welcomed the very woman who had put them in great danger on more than one occasion. And yet, like an overgrown boy scout, he undoubtedly came to her defense and seemed to want her company. 

***************************************************************

Trip walked into the Captain's Mess thinking Archer needed rescuing. He'd had a shot of "Southern charm" before dinner, which he rarely did. He knew it was going to be a hell of a dinner and wanted to feel more relaxed. When he got there, he was surprised half out of his gourd. T'Pol, rather than dressed in her cat suit, was armed in a flowing black dress with spaghetti straps. He didn't see Jon or the Benovulan.

"Hey, T'Pol," he said, smiling. "You look nice."

She raised her eyebrows and mumbled, "Thank you. It is now 1805, the captain should've arrived five minutes ago." 

Trip furrowed his brow. If he didn't know better, he would say she was ... fretting. Maybe ... jealous?

"Well, I'm sure they'll be here ... ," as Tucker delivered a comeback, Jon walked in laughing as Larana curled her body into his arm. The Engineer gave a smirk. That was unexpected – that woman and the captain getting along. Actually, he noticed the councilwoman seemed pretty attractive. He noted her unusual violet eyes and smiled a little broader.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," said Archer. He noticed T'Pol looked radiant. With a little more seriousness, he admitted, "You look pretty ... ahhh ... unVulcan." Nice save, he thought to himself, scooting T'Pol and Larana into the table and made his way to the other end.

Tucker stuck out his hand. "Commander Trip Tucker," he said to Larana. 

She shook it daintily and said, "Councilwoman Larana."

T'Pol was on edge. She hadn't meditated and felt her emotions bubbling to the surface, so much so that when Archer indicated Larana would be at dinner, she decided she had to attend. Worse, she wanted to look appealing for the captain. She believed perhaps she was feeling the after effects of the drug. Every time a wave of jealousy overtook her, she beat down the emotion bemoaning the lingering effects of the elixir.

"Did you enjoy the tour?" asked T'Pol, taking a sip of tea.

Larana smiled, "Very much so. The captain is an excellent host."

Jon beamed at her for a moment. "Larana shared the location of the Xindi weapon. I think it's the least we can do." 

We? T'Pol furrowed her brow and said, maybe a little too emotionally, "And you believed her about knowing that information?" She sensed the humans and Benovulans eyeing her and said, "I hope I did not offend you, Councilwoman, but you have been less than honest with us in the past. This might be another plot to ... ."

Archer shrugged, "To what?" What had gotten into her?

"Deter us, perhaps?" responded T'Pol. "She may still be in league with the Xindi."

Larana waved her hand. "I can understand her sentiment. She doesn't understand the situation fully. T'Pol, we need your help. I have no allies left ... nothing. You, this ship, is the only thing I have left. My people are in the midst of a civil war, and my factions aren't exactly winning. I knew the kindness of your crew and your captain, and thought I would try and re-establish an alliance, as you tried to persuade me not too long ago."

Trip and Archer seemed relatively satisfied with the answer as T'Pol raised a wary eyebrow at her tea and decided maybe there were other reasons Jonathan was helping this woman. The Vulcan wasn't quite satisfied with the answer, but remained silent. She glanced up at Commander Tucker to determine his reaction. He seemed to be thirstily gulping his water and noticed her eyes on him and smiled.

Archer furrowed his brow at his first officer. She was acting a little weird. She seemed to almost be questioning his judgment. That raised his hackles ... that and the fact she kept glancing over at Trip.

Tucker decided to start a light dinner conversation. "So, Councilwoman ... ."

"You can call me Larana," she smiled.

He grinned back and warily looked at the captain. "All right, Larana. I heard that Benovulans have many spouses."

"Some do, especially those in positions of power."

"How many you got? If it's not too personal," asked the engineer.

"Six."

"Is that average?" asked Archer.

"No. I'm in a higher position, I have more spouses than most."

Trip seemed to become amused at the number, as T'Pol internally rolled her eyes. 'When will this dinner be over?' she asked herself, stabbing a piece of lettuce.

"Tell me, are you married?" asked Larana to Archer.

He furrowed his brow and said, "Uhm, no."

She raised her eyebrows. "You Commander Tucker?"

He grinned, "You can call me Trip. Nope, hadn't had the good fortune to yet."

Her saccharine smile became more pronounced. "I'm just sure you two haven't met the right woman. You, T'Pol?"

"No," she noted. "In fact, most of the people on this vessel aren't married."

"Pity. I've enjoyed every marriage."

"We got a doctor on board who has three wives, but they're also married to other men. What about your husbands?" asked Trip.

"Only the ones with the highest power. For example, one of my spouses is a doctor. He has three other wives. One is an architect; he has two. It's convenient, but I find I still have a ... wandering eye. I like things of beauty." She delivered the line, gazing at Archer. 

He was listening half-heartedly to the conversation, but noticed the last of the speech was delivered while looking at him. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 

Dinner continued, with T'Pol remaining entirely too quiet, as she watched the nonverbal cues back and forth from the captain to Larana. She noted Commander Tucker was somewhat smitten with the councilwoman as well. The woman was playing damsel in distress, and neither man could help themselves but become enamored with her. 

As soon as a crewmen collected their plates, Larana spoke up. "Captain, I have further matters to discuss with you. Maybe I could walk back with you to your room?"

Archer jerked his head a little, thinking for a brief second she was coming onto him again. He sighed, thinking he was just being overly cautious and resigned himself, "Okay."

Larana knew she owed Archer one last favor, and thought that flirting with him all night and making that request in front of T'Pol was all the science officer needed to teeter closer to jealousy. And the councilwoman was satisfied when her request was met guardedly by Archer and with surprise by T'Pol. 

The councilwoman stood up and gathered her robes around her. "I'm ready when you are, Jonathan."

T'Pol's brows knitted as a specter of a frown grazed her lips. She seemed to let out a slow sigh as Archer and the councilwoman left the room.

Tucker stayed behind, watching T'Pol. "Why don't you go after him?"

"What?" she asked, pretending it didn't bother her.

"I said, 'Go after him.'"

"I do not understand," she admitted wiping the corners of her mouth.

"You've been stewing in envy all night."

"That is ridiculous," she retorted, wishing her emotions were under control.

"Suit yourself." Trip shrugged and left his seat, "Well, I gotta get going. Movie night's tonight. _Fatal Attraction_. Hell of a movie," he quipped. "Have a nice evening, Sub-commander."

As the commander strutted out the Captain's Mess, T'Pol sighed. Tucker was correct; she had been jealous. In fact, she'd been feeling envy, confusion, misunderstanding and many more emotions. Her mind raced to think of just the other night – she and Archer were in the Command Center, where he'd confessed his feelings for her. The confession itself was ... beautiful. Yes, beautiful, not 'pleasing.' Human emotions ran deep, and it was obvious the man had a difficult time revealing his feelings, which made her treasure them even more. She doubted these thoughts were lingering from the after effects of the aphrodisiac. Perhaps these were merely exacerbated by the love potion. She stared down at the table and thought about her recourse. 

She could of course, allow Larana and Archer to talk business. Although he seemed attracted to her, and certainly vice versa, she doubted anything would happen between them ... unless she drugged him. She did not rule out that possibility.

She could conveniently go to Archer's quarters and check on them, just to make sure he was not drugged. But, he may see that as an invasion of privacy ... unless it was work related. After all, she had been meaning to discuss the week's duty roster with him, and what better time than now.

Dismissing the need to first meditate, she headed to her room to retrieve the duty roster PADD and bring it to his room.

******************************************

"So, what's this business you want to discuss with me?" asked Jon, feeling a little uncomfortable.

Larana looked at his bed and said, "May I sit?"

Archer nodded slowly, as the woman spread herself on it, leaning with one hand on his mattress. 

"This bed seems very hard," she said, coyly.

Archer sighed, "What did you want to discuss?"

"After you capture or destroy the Xindi weapon, I was hoping you'd give some aid to me and my people for our rebellion. A few weapons, perhaps some training ... ."

He snorted, "I knew this was coming. I'll have to think about it."

She patted the bed. He grudgingly sat down beside her. 

"I appreciate knowing where the weapon is. As soon as we can destroy it, I'll need to check back in with my superiors," he commented.

"I understand. I knew it was a long shot, but felt it necessary to ask."

"Well, if you didn't, I would've known something was ... up," he admitted with a smile.

"Jonathan, you have lovely eyes," she indicated. "Green eyes on my planet are very rare."

He stood up. "Well, if there isn't anything else you wish to discuss ... ."

"I know how alone you are. I can see it in everything you do. I can ... sense it."

He squinted his eyes. "Larana ... "

She sauntered over to him and rubbed her hands against his chest. "There's nothing wrong with wanting affection, attention ... female companionship."

This wasn't going well. Of course there was nothing wrong with wanting affection, but he really didn't want hers. Well, his body was starting to believe maybe hers wouldn't be so bad.

She snuggled against him, as his hands stayed at his side. "Larana," he said, giving her ample warning.

She was bringing her mouth close to his when the door chimed.

Archer gave a half-smile and headed for the door. He was stunned to see T'Pol, holding a PADD, but still dressed in the attire she wore at dinner.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"I brought this by for you to review."

Larana smiled. Her plan seemed to be working well. She sashayed up to Archer, placing her head on his shoulder and nuzzling her face into it. 

T'Pol's eyebrow shot up in response. With a bit of snippiness in her voice she said, "I can come back when it's more convenient, Captain."

He squirmed out of Larana's grasp. "No, come in."

The councilwoman noted T'Pol watching Archer look over the duty roster. The Vulcan wasn't just watching his eyes look at the screen, but noticed they darted to the man's mouth, neck and hands. Maybe things would progress naturally if she made a quick exit. The woman thought one more nudge would be all that was needed and worked out just the right thing to say.

"Perhaps when your business concludes, you can join me in my cabin," she noted. Her hand wound around his chest and she swiveled her hips toward the door, knowing he'd be watching her walk out. She wasn't disappointed. She wiggled her fingers as the door slid shut and walked normally to her cabin. The human would likely never know about this favor, and it was just as well. 

'The Vulcan might figure it out,' she concluded. 'Maybe.'

**************************************

Archer looked over the duty roster very thoroughly and took it back to his desk. "Like to have a seat?" he offered.

T'Pol looked around and decided the bed was closest to the desk. She sat down with trepidation; she'd never sat on the man's bed. He looked up, noting that she was sitting in nearly the same spot Larana did. Rather than drape herself onto the bed, the Vulcan sat ramrod straight, looking around his room. He smiled and then forced himself to stop. She'd already made it abundantly clear how she felt.

He removed the stylus from the side and scribbled his signature at the bottom. The list was complete and detailed ... as it always was. He got up and handed it over.

"What did the councilwoman want?" asked T'Pol.

"Huh?"

"She indicated she had business to conduct with you. Although, it didn't seem like you two were conducting ... business."

He scratched his head. Was she questioning his judgment again? "Look, I don't need to explain every decision I make as captain."

She stood slowly, gripping the PADD. "No, you do not."

As she swished her way to the door, she turned around. "I did not believe you would be so foolish as to become involved with the councilwoman again, but if you choose to be, I presume that is your concern."

"Wait a minute. She asked me if after we destroy the Xindi weapon, whether I'd help her people."

"And you said, 'yes'?" asked T'Pol, already drawing the conclusion he had.

"No. I said I'd think about it."

"It is obvious the councilwoman has more than merely interest in her own people. She seems to be quite ... fascinated with you."

Taken aback, he said, "I don't see how that's your business."

"My apologies. I did not want you to seem foolish, chasing women seems to be more Commander Tucker's style."

Archer raised his eyebrows in anger. "I wasn't chasing her. She was coming onto me. And as for Commander Tucker, _you_ seem to like his 

attention. Maybe it's just that women throw themselves at him."

"We have already had this discussion. I do not care for Commander Tucker."

He growled, "Nice dress." That should really put her in her place; he knew she was wearing it for Trip.

"I did not wear this for him," she said, raising her voice slightly. She had been foolish to not go immediately back to her quarters and meditate.

As if he didn't hear her correctly, confusion collected on his face. "I don't understand."

"Jonathan, I wore this for you," she said, irritated with herself.

Still squinting, he said, "Are you still being affected ...?"

Giving a near pout, she said, "I wanted to accompany you to the sphere as your first officer, but mostly because I ... care for you."

Feeling like he'd had his chain yanked one too many times by her, he continued to squint as if he hadn't really heard what she'd been saying. 

"I don't get it. You've made it abundantly clear you're not interested in me," stated Archer.

"Do you remember the morning after our night together? I asked you to leave ... ." she prompted.

"Yeah," he said regretfully. Archer recalled that moment painfully – nothing like feeling exquisite happiness only to have it pummeled by the idea that you hadn't quite ... lived up to expectations. He thought back to that moment; she'd clenched the sheets up to her chin and basically told him to get the hell out. The funny thing was he'd felt their night together had been incredible and waking up beside her had felt sublime. Although he was no longer under the influence of the drug, he'd wanted to spend all day enveloping her in his arms and covering her with kisses. Yeah, he remembered that day; it was crushing.

"I wasn't entirely honest with you. You remarked that the experience felt ... I believe wonderful," she noted, watching him eye her suspiciously – neither agreeing or disagreeing.

She continued warily, "Our first time together was so ... enjoyable ... and ... emotional that I wanted to continue to be with you, even though I knew you were already ... cured. I enjoyed the ... feeling of being with you."

He was stunned. He knew it was difficult to get out. The pauses in her speech let him know how difficult the information was get out.

"Well, if you liked it, why'd you push me away?" He'd wondered why she'd initiated their third, but not final, foray. Maybe that was the one constant in the universe -- no matter the species, he would never figure out women ... Vulcan women included.

"It was _because_ I ... enjoyed our experience together that I asked you to leave. It ... no ... _you_ ... made me ... feel."

He closed the gap between them. "Why? Why did you tell me the next day that we should keep our relationship strictly professional?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You did not object."

"I wanted to, but you made it sound like your decision was final. Besides, what about in the Command Center? I thought I made my feelings abundantly clear."

"I needed time to reflect. I said I was unsure about how I felt. I ... mostly believed starting a relationship with you would be difficult."

"I think it'd be difficult too, but was ... am ... willing to give it a shot."

"As am I," she concluded.

"What's changed your mind?"

"I ... cannot imagine being without you. I was disappointed even after I awoke that you did not fulfill your promise to me earlier today."

Time seemed to stand still and he thought about encircling her in his arms and kissing her passionately when she beat him to the punch.

She held up two fingers, gazing into his eyes. "Do you still care for me?"

"No, I don't care for you." He watched sadness adorn her eyes and clarified, "I'm crazy about you."

He took the PADD from her hand and tossed it on his bed. "I'm in love with you." His two fingers stroked hers lightly, as he panted at the feel. His forehead touched hers as they gazed into each other's eyes.

Unlike his last encounter, he wanted to put his knowledge of Vulcan rituals into play. Instead of lunging at her mouth, he let his fingers rest against hers and ran them slowly up her arm while maintaining eye contact, which he noted gave her goose bumps.

In response, she ran her fingers along his jaw line, enjoying the feel of the tiny coarse hairs growing on his face, while studying the cleft in his chin and the lagoon-color of his eyes.

His hand curved up her neck and he tapped his fingers lightly against her lips. She kissed at his fingertips, staring, unblinkingly into his eyes. He wanted to smile, but instead met her eyes with the same intensity. Her fingers traced his mouth as his tongue flicked at her digits, indicating (to a Vulcan) he was aroused. She raised her eyebrow at the thoroughness at which he'd read about her people's mating rituals as she returned the gesture.

The two began to let their fingers do the talking, stroking each other's face, ears, arms and neck, for nearly an hour. Their mouths hovered near each other's without touching. Jon was amazed at how exciting it was to continue to almost kiss her. Each finger touch left the other uncontrollably panting onto each other's lips in huffs.

She decided to be a little more forward, as her hands tugged slowly at his zipper, and she dodged her fingers under his shirt, trailing her fingers along his chest. He moaned into her open mouth, but teased himself away from capturing her lips with his. It was all new and exhilarating. Her fingers dancing down his chest felt remarkable and slightly ticklish.

Archer'd read that Vulcans enjoyed long sessions of what humans might call petting, but it seemed much more tame -- very little unzipping and much more innocent -- but possibly just as arousing. As their fingers and breathing became more frenzied, and their mouths inched closer and closer together, Archer's tongue barely reached for hers when suddenly their mouths connected. 

Waiting for that kiss and exploring each other's mouths only now was highly satisfying and erotic. Each kiss became more passionate and desperate.

His teeth gently nibbled on her lips, before he let them explore her ears and her neck. His index and middle finger traced her flushed throat as he kissed it, giving tender love bites as he did so.

His emotions were still mostly kept at bay, but now and again, she sensed them. They were glorious; he was completely mesmerized by her. 

She also noticed he was debating in his mind asking her to stay the night. He didn't want to be presumptuous, but desperately wanted to hold her while she slept. And, if he had his druthers, he'd be holding her when she was slightly sweaty and completely naked.

She broke the awed silence the two had shared since the beginning of their finger parade, hoping to deliver the right amount of human forwardness. "You did promise me you would do whatever I wanted ... as many times as I wanted," she said, leading him over to the bed. "I'd hoped you would not break that contractual obligation."

A lop-sided grin crashed onto his face, as he pushed her gently down and said, "I like to keep my promises."

***********************************************

At breakfast the next morning, Trip noted frequent glances between the captain and first officer. As soon as T'Pol took a bite of her breakfast, her eyes flitted toward the captain. Archer caught her eye, bit back an obvious smile and tucked into his meal.

"Larana's back on the Benovulan ship, Cap'n," offered the engineer. He was surprised the captain hadn't asked about it. There hadn't really been much conversation that morning. Well, maybe there were other things on his mind.

Archer was so engrossed in T'Pol that he barely heard his friend. "Oh. Right. Thanks for letting me know."

Trip smiled, "No problem. So, the councilwoman said you may agree to help her people out after we destroy the weapon at Azati Prime."

"Possibly. I told her I'd think things over. What do you think, T'Pol?" he asked, trying to take the huskiness out of his voice in mentioning her name.

"The Vulcan government has made a practice of not choosing sides in wars. However, I would hate to see Dralan come to power."

He agreed, "We still have a few days before we reach Azati Prime." He couldn't believe it. Reed had contacted him late last night ... slightly in the middle of things ... to let him know they had indeed found kemocite -- tons of it. They were speeding toward the weapon and were well on their way, hopefully, to victory or at least saving his planet.

Archer had a lot to celebrate.

Things had changed a lot in the past week. He recalled setting down on Benovula wondering how the mission would turn out. Irony excited his brain -- he remembered thinking it was the best first contact ever; the mission, at the time, seemed to be going so right. He looked over at T'Pol and grinned. No, she probably was 'the best first contact ever.' Without having the aphrodisiac affect him, he never would've acted on his feelings for her or even admitted them. He was perfectly happy bottling them up and denying they existed. Maybe drinking the concoction was one of the best things that could've happened to him. He stared into his meal and relived last night. If it were possible, things were even more incredible yesterday evening and this morning than before. Better still, when she woke up in his arms, she didn't force the covers to her chin. Instead, she sought out his lips and whispered that she cherished him and wanted him again.

T'Pol watched Archer with her peripheral vision. She sorted through the events on Benovula, remembering her irritation when the captain had lavished attention on Larana. As she'd watched them strike up a conversation, she was Vulcanly elated that Dralan had encouraged her to break the two up. When the captain had first started coming onto her, she was cool. She'd always thought he was handsome, but decided nothing more could come between them. Having him succumb to the effects of the elixir, and eventually falling under its influence herself, showed how much she cared for the man. If it were not for the drug, she would never have acted on her attraction nor wanted to pursue a more meaningful relationship. But, last night was just an affirmation that they were destined to be together. She craved him like she desired meditation and water; he was essential to her life.

When they'd both parted early in the morning, before their shifts, they had decided to meet for breakfast early thinking it would be just the two of them. Both were a little disappointed in seeing Tucker. No, they were a lot disappointed.

Trip chomped on his toast and noticed the interaction between the two, thinking it was just a little too quiet in the Captain's Mess. He wondered what the heck they were thinking. Maybe it was best he didn't know.

"Captain, Sub-commander, you've been through a lot this past week. The engines are in pretty good shape – no major repairs or problems today. Maybe you should take the day off. I can ... uh ... mind the store."

Archer was about to object.

"Might make you sharper when dealing with the weapon. You two look a little pre-occupied today," he noted. "And like you could use a little sleep."

Jon nodded slowly, thinking about wanting to just be with her for one day. He felt a little selfish at wanting to play footsie with her, talk about their relationship, take a shower with her and have her lean up against his chest as he read a book. Seemed like heaven. Okay, so he'd probably wander into the Command Center for a short period of time to study Azati Prime, but was imagining he'd do so as T'Pol took an afternoon nap after he'd made love to her.

Archer left a smile drift across his face and nodded. "You've got a deal. I could use some rest."

T'Pol looked between the men. She thought about going back to Jonathan's quarters and possibly leading him through meditation. Perhaps the two would converse about their relationship, their next steps and specific Vulcan and human expectations. They should also discuss Azati Prime and what to do about the Benovulans. Possibly, she could cajole him into performing a more erotic version of neuropressure on each other; the idea caused her eyebrow to give a slight twitch. She hoped he wouldn't visit the Command Center.

She agreed, "I could catch up on my meditation."

Trip smiled, noting Jon wolfing down the rest of his meal as T'Pol wiped her mouth and set her napkin delicately on the table. As Archer guzzled the remainder of his coffee and orange juice, he gave T'Pol a quick glance.

"I'm gonna go head back to my room. T'Pol, maybe we can discuss your recommendation about the Benovulans before you take the rest of the day off?"

"Of course," she said.

The two clamored out of their seats with renewed purpose, and the engineer noticed Archer's hand resting on her lower back guiding her out of the room. His gaze was transfixed on her as she allowed him to make small circular patterns on her back without flinching. His nose momentarily ducked into her hair as if to smell her shampoo before the door slid closed.

Tucker shook his head. It was almost as if they were under the spell of the love potion. The commander grinned to himself glad he wasn't given the elixir.

'Didn't have to be,' he thought, thinking about his night with Larana.

The end.

Authors notes: 

Thanks for reading!

And, many thanks to Monica -- the woman with a lot of patience and a heart of gold!!! Who read every single page, some more than once.

Tip of the hat to: Angie and Mel, who introduced the Farscape-like forehead touching thingy, Angelus who had 'erotic neuropressure' in his story [which I stole -- thank you!] and the song "Love Potion #9." [Partly why I had to end it here.]

tami@deathmint.com

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Disclaimers to Star Trek, UPN and Paramount©2003.   
Video captures by fabulous Enterprise 8875©2003.   
Reviews provided by Monica. 


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